


I Built These Walls (To Watch Them Crumbling Down)

by Starinlight



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Zayn, Businessman Louis, Cat/Human Hybrids, Catboys & Catgirls, Drama, Eventual Romance, Everyone Blames Harry For Everything, F/M, Larry - friendship, Louis Being an Idiot, Louis Owns Zayn, Louis-centric, M/M, Master/Pet, Multi, Omega Zayn, Oral Sex, Platonic Relationships, Praise Kink, Punishment, Romance, Slow Build, The Author Likes Cats, Top Louis, Zayn-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4487979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starinlight/pseuds/Starinlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis had the perfect life; a perfect girlfriend, a perfect condo, a perfect job, perfect friends-- Well, maybe not perfect, but good enough friends.</p><p>At least, before Harry fucking Styles decided he needed a pet.</p><p>Enters Zayn.</p><p>//</p><p>Or the one where Louis is a businessman and also an idiot; Zayn only wants to be loved and Harry is the one to blame for everything gone wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry is to Blame

**Author's Note:**

> So, my first 1D fanfic and my second chaptered fic ever. Dear heavens, it doesn't make me feel confident.  
> Whatever.  
> So, to everyone who decided to read this, I must thank you ^^  
> Zouis isn't my absolute ship of all times, but I do love Mr. Malik and Mr. Tomlinson together; this, and I love cat-hybrids (my other chaptered fanfic is about them too, even if more light).  
> I'm still mourning Zayn's decision, but I understand it, wish the best for him (always) and that doesn't mean I will stop using him in my fanfics. Sorry babe ^^  
> Oh, course:  
> Louis will refer Zayn as an 'it' for the first chapters 'cause to him, this is what he is. I know is awkward, I had lots of difficulty in remembering it while writing, but please, bear with me.  
> And to finish: Sorry for my mistakes; I don't have a beta (someone?) and English is not my first language ^^'  
> Thank you for reading and please, enjoy~  
> (The title came from the song 'Lost It All', from amazing Black Veil Brides)

Louis wasn't known exactly as a pacifist; wasn't known as some kind of murderer either. He could be considered a pretty normal person when it came to murdering urges; he sometimes thought about it, ways of ending that specially annoying person's life, that one person that wouldn't be missed in this miserable world and that in fact, would only bring joy with their death.

 

When Louis thought about it, the name that came into his mind was one and one only.

 

_Harry fucking Styles._

 

His so called best mate, that new kid next door with wild curly hair and giant green eyes, someone who Louis still regretted helping more than ten years ago, back when he was a good not-quite-a-teenager-but-not-a-kid who took pity in seeing smaller and younger kids on the street with their knees busted. Thinking back, he should had left the crying neighbor bailing him eyes out and continued his away home, a few steps away from said crying neighbor who really was pissing him of at the time.

 

Had he been more intelligent at that time, he would have considered his annoyed person as a sign, a warning for him to continue his way. But then again, he made some pretty big fuckups when he was younger, and maybe (just _maybe_ , though) Harry wasn't the worst one.

 

"Pretty please?" said Harry fucking Styles asked him, using that damn kicked puppy face of his.

 

Running a hand through his carefully styled-to-look-like-bed-hair hair, the older man hissed "Fuck no"

 

The way the younger's lips trembled almost made him think he had used a to harsh tone. "But Louis, man- I already- Fuck, I..."

 

"Spit it out, Styles. I don't have all day" he wore a slightly calmer voice. "I still have to go to El's house for Christmas Eve. Bid me Happy Birthday and fuck of"

 

Harry bit his lower lip, turning his head to the side and fumbling with his large fingers; Louis knew by this that he would start rambling at any given moment "You know mate, it's just that I... Well, you always tell me that I make decisions on the moment's heat and I can agree with that at a certain extension, remember when I got us a ticket to Vegas 'cause- that's not really important right now. The thing is that sometimes maybe I get to excited and _boom!_ , I do something like... like I did last week. We were at that club and you said that you wanted a fucking fantastic present for your birthday and it stuck in my head- so, I was walking around this really nice neighborhood on Monday and I saw a pet sale and I though 'why not?'" Harry breathed sharply "Ikindofboughtapetandputitinyourname... Happy Birthday and... Surprise?"

 

Oh, forget about him not being Louis biggest fuckup.

 

He _definitely_ was.

 

"You did _what?_!" like thunder, his bright blue eyes flashed dangerously, and Harry whimpered, cowering in his spot on Louis' couch "In fact, don't repeat whatever bullshit just came out of your mouth. Leave"

 

"But, Louis..."

 

"I said _leave_ "

 

The curly haired man fidgeted, his lower lip so red it looked like it could split at any time "... It's outside"

 

Louis had to take deep calming breaths, counting from one to ten in his mind, trying to calm his temper; it didn't work, to the point he felt even more nervous by the end of the counting, cursing the other male up to his 10th generation. "Fuck you Styles. I don't have time for your shit, so pick your damn present and go" standing, he threw a glare at the younger man, straightening his clothes.

 

How dared he? He did asked (more like demanded) a fucking amazing present for his 28th birthday, but in what fucking world would a pet be a fucking amazing present? if he was making eight years instead of twenty eight, then a pet would be a pretty great gift; the thing was that it wasn't the case. He didn't have the patience, the time or the _want_ to take care of a whiny, clingy, starving for love pet. He was selective when it came to feel something, anything for a person (or a damn pet) and he didn't like the idea of being forced to give affection freely and unquestionably because Harry Styles couldn't keep his shit.

 

"You don't want to see it?" Harry asked, standing too but keeping a safe distance. The older knew it was because the last time he had lost his temper, he had thrown a beer bottle on the other, causing Harry to receive eight stitches on his shoulder. It wasn't an action he was proud of, yet it made him feel a bit better knowing the curly haired man was treating him carefully. Served him right, for being so thoughtless and so damn _Harry._

 

He snorted, feeling the pull of curiosity and cursing it "Just a look, and be quick"

 

He saw Harry releasing his respiration, clearly relieved "Right! ZAYN! ZAYNIE, COME HERE!"

 

The main entrance's door opened (Louis cursed again; Harry had this annoying and dangerous habit of letting doors open), revealing Louis' supposed new pet.

 

 _At least Harry got it right on looks_ , was the first thing he thought as it carefully (almost fearfully, as if it expected the floor to have some kind of trap to hurt it) walked in Harry's direction, its bare feet not making a single sound on Louis' wood floor, which tended to creak in weird places. The pet kept its' face down, the black hair enough to hide most of its' fluffy ears and forehead, and it was clothed with a jumper that clearly belonged to Louis himself (and that at some point had been stolen from his wardrobe; another of Harry's annoying habits), striped red and white, contrasting strongly with the tanned skin. It stopped next to Harry, hands clutched tightly together in the front of its body, the jumper material swallowing them like the rest of its lithe form. The type of body was exactly Louis' preference when it came to males.

 

"Zaynie, look up so Louis can see the great deal I made" Harry softly ordered.

 

It obeyed, of course it obeyed. 

 

It had golden (fucking _golden_ , like a damn expensive jewelry) eyes, with thick and dark eyelashes framing them, and that still didn't looked directly in Louis' blue eyes; plump pink lips that were being worried by white teeth repeatedly, the action serving to swell it and give an even plump-ier appearance. Cheekbones that could cut glass with its' sharpness and a high and gracious nose. On overall, the pet looked one of those that people used to advertise brand pet's clothes and accessories, so pretty it must have costed a fortune out of the youngest Styles.

 

"... Hm" he grumbled, trying to pretend he wasn't pleased with the pet's looks.

 

Apparently, that had been a wrong response, judging the way Harry beamed, dimples carving deep holes on his face "I knew you would like it! Pretty, right? He was one of the most expensive in that damn sale, and I had to sweet talk the owner for like, half a hour before he agreed to give me more discount and- Fuck Zaynie, I said that he would love you!" as he rambled, the taller of the three turned around to hug the pet. It stiffened with the sudden action, taking a few seconds to react, its hands loosely holding Harry's sides.

 

"Don't assume things" Louis started "So the pet has a good appearance, well, like I care, 'cause as I said, I don't want a fucking pet"

 

The pet -- Zayn, Zayn; such a complicated and unnecessarily hard name to pronounce -- froze immediately inside Harry's embrace, looking into Louis eyes for the first time, the deep golden orbs full of confusion, heartbreak and crushing, rooted, raw _fear._ It went limp, letting Harry support most of its weight, and by the boy's reaction -- the slightly frowned eyebrows, the double-check to see if he was really supporting the smaller body --, the pet didn't weigh a lot.

 

Harry stuttered, looking back and forward from Zayn to Louis "Mate, come on- Zayn's a good pet" the pet instantly shook his head, agreeing even if wasn't a question directed to him.

 

"If it is so damn good, then keep it" Louis smirked, wiggling his head enough to indicate the two close bodies "You sure look like its' owner"

 

The curly haired man sighed, releasing the pet. Its' ears trembled for a millisecond before dropping, forming a sad arch; the tail curled in itself, and the pointy canines were biting down hard its' lips flesh, turning them so red the skin could split at any moment.

 

"I can't have a pet" he said bluntly "Not with my lifestyle"

 

Louis snorted at the chosen word. Lifestyle indeed.

 

More like promiscuous don't-know-exactly-how-many-somes -- three, four, sometimes five -- and forever bachelor like life that would never allow the presence of a pet and everything it brought with it. A pet meant stability, domesticity, the ability to keep, to be attached to something so completely dependent that required love and dedication. For a person like Harry, who had the famous 'free-spirit', a pet meant a cage, a form of imprisonment, something he bothered to offer affection for few minutes per week, and nothing more; this if the pet belonged to one of his friends, like Niall's. He was the kind of lad loyal to his friends, but never to his lovers. 

 

He didn't want stability or whatever.

 

Just because Louis had a stable life, a large condo and a girlfriend, it didn't mean he was one to wish for a pet.

 

A ringing sound coming from his phone cut short his line of thought; Eleanor. "This is Greatest God Lou; what is your wish, my beautiful mortal?" he purred, delighted in hearing the girl's soft giggle on the other side of the line.

 

"Hello to you too babe" she said, and he imagined the smile that surely stretched her lips "This beautiful mortal only has one question to ask upon the Greatest of Them All- When are your magnanimous presence going to appear before this humble self?"

 

A smile of his own broke the annoyed frown that was in his face since Harry's news; his girl the capable of brightening his day no matter what "Well, me, in all of my grandiosity, am 'bout to kill a certain curly haired wanker, yeah... I'll be by your side in forty minutes"

 

Another giggle, this time, more loud "Lou, _language_ " she chastised "What Harry did this time?"

 

With a side glance in the wanker's direction, the older saw the other two looking straight at him; Harry with that knowing look and dimpled smirk (and that you're-so-fucking-whipped-mate air around him) and Zayn with its' ears high and mouth agape, like it was seeing Louis for the very first time (technically, it was its' first time, considering they were partly introduced for no longer than fifteen minutes), _longing_ deep into those gold pools it had as eyes.

 

"...He bought me a pet"

 

There was hesitation on the other side of the line; Louis sent a glare towards the mentioned boy, who visibly lost his smirk so a sheepish little smile could assume its' place.

 

Then "Good God, Lou, that's- that's great!"

 

"Pardon?" maybe he heard wrong; was Eleanor _excited?_ "El, babe, how many drinks you've had until now?"

 

"Two and a half and no, I'm not drunk... yet"

 

"So why this non-sense escaped your kissable lips?" he blinked, the flirtatious words leaving his mouth easily, an habit of his when talking to her.

 

Another pause, smaller than the first one, followed by a exasperated sigh "Lou, I'm catching a plane to Brazil in two weeks and- three months, Lou, three months until we can see each other again. I don't want you to be lonely"

 

Yeah, there was this; his girlfriend was pretty inside and out, her degree in Sociology and Politics making her (and consequently his) life impossibly difficult, with all of her several travels to the most unimaginable places (who goes to Brazil to study about native tribes in Amazon instead of going to chill in one of their amazing beaches? Oh yeah, his girlfriend) that usually took most of the year. 

 

Like the time she was in Egypt for six fucking months, or the time before that, when she spent an entire year on Thailand. By now they had already mastered the 'long-distance' relationship, being together for five years, having split for almost four months and knowing all the perks and bad sides in each other's profession; Eleanor with her all goodies-two-shoes and 'let's save the world' actions and Louis with his 'I'm the best, you know, I know, everyone knows' attitude, as the CFO of a big multinational who dealt with beauty products for both men and woman. Thing that normally required him at his office in weird hours and skipping dates to persuade stubborn investors and the list went on and on.

 

"I really didn't want to be remembered of this, babe" he pouted, knowing she wasn't able to see, but also knowing she was able to guess. "It's my birthday"

 

"I know Lou, sorry, but I am right, you wanting it or not"

 

She was dammit, but he wouldn't give up without trying "You speak in a way that makes me seem one of those miserable minor character in a terrible soap opera. I have mates"

 

"Lou, stop with the drama. So you have Harry, Niall and Liam- But it's not the same. They're not with you all the time..."

 

"Thank God for that"

 

" _Lou!_ \- My point is: A pet can provide you and your egocentric persona the attention you need, both platonic and physical"

 

The phrase made his retort die in his throat, surprise settling in "You... El- you"

 

"Come _on_ Louis" Eleanor used his name, not the short version. Things were serious "We're talking about genetically fucked up creatures that aren't humans or animals fully. They're made to attend to our needs, so if you want to fuck it, then do it. It's not like I will feel threatened by a damn pet, for gods sake. Harry probably thought about it too, he's a bastard, but a good friend"

 

Louis felt his mouth hanging open for different motives; 1) Eleanor cursed, and Eleanor didn't curse, 2) she said that she was okay with the idea of him fucking another... person? It's not like it was a human or a animal, so he can see her point and 3) he kinda liked her idea a bit too much. Zayn or whatever had the looks and judging the way it was still looking at him like he was the eight wonder in the world (which honestly he thought he was most of the time), it certainly wouldn't oppose to offering its' body to him if he asked, or demanded.

 

God, he loved Eleanor too damn much.

 

"You know you're fucking amazing, yeah babe?"

 

He could almost see her victorious smile, that marvelous, fantastic woman "Yep, I know. You wouldn't have kept me around so long if I wasn't"

 

Louis laughed; she was right, again "I love how right you are. So, I'll talk to the wanker here, explain some things to the pet and I'm going. Don't do anything I wouldn't"

 

"You mean: 'don't'... Wait, there's something you wouldn't do?"

 

"I wouldn't sleep with anyone less prettier than myself, and since I know there's no one in your family an' friends who can reach my beautiful feet, not worried" cocky? No, realistic.

 

 "Bastard" 

 

She sounded amused "Love yah too babe. See yah soon"

 

"Sure, love you"

 

A beep indicating the call's end.

 

Finally focusing on Harry and Zayn, Louis saw that at some point during his conversation with Eleanor, they had moved to his couch, his friend laying on it with sprawled legs, his apparently new pet sat in the space between them and with bare, hairless legs on top of Harry's right thigh. It was positioned in a way that made it possible for it to comb Harry's curly hair in a caress, while Harry did the same with its' legs, talking about amenities.

 

The CFO quirked an eyebrow high "Yo, mate, you're sure you don't wanna keep it?"

 

Harry stopped Zayn gently "Nah, I'm fine by myself- no offense Zaynie"

 

It nodded its' head.

 

"So, Lou, what's your final decision?" a cheeky grin spread-ed in Harry's face; he surely knew what Louis would say, probably paying attention to it and entertaining the pet at the same time (Harry was good at multitasking).

 

"Don't look at me with this shit-eating grin, you wanker" he snarled, but smirked "I think I can afford having a pet... for some time"

 

Zayn didn't seem to bother with the 'some time' part, its' whole complexion brightening as it jumped out of the couch, approaching Louis so they were a few steps from distance; Harry frowned, but quickly seemed to dismiss the subject, lifting as well. "Well, you can thank me later" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively 

 

"Really, Happy Birthday and Christmas Lou, mate. See you in New Years"

 

They hugged 'bro's style' before Harry left, sending Zayn a little kiss, to which it blushed.

 

The door closed, and then there were only Louis and Zayn.

 

Atmosphere suddenly tense, the businessmen eyed the pet eerily, measuring him from its' hair to its' toes "Zayn"

 

Immediately straightening up, the pet answered "My master"

 

It had a surprisingly soft but deep voice (Louis' first time hearing it).

 

Crossing his arms in front of his body, Louis started "First of all, I don't really want a pet, but I must admit that your presence can be beneficial to me in some ways" he lifted his finger "Two, I don't like to repeat myself, and I won't tolerate disobedience" another finger up "Don't whine or do anything around the house without getting my permission first, except for doing your business and showering, which makes me remember that I don't have time to walk around with you, so start to get accustomed with being locked inside the house" three fingers were up by now "Lastly, you're mine, so I will do whatever I want with your mind and body, understand?"

 

A shaky "Yes" closely followed by a nod. 

 

Nodding himself, Louis went to his room and picked his the bag he would use in Eleanor's family house. Back in the living room, he was satisfied in seeing that Zayn hadn't moved from his spot "There's food on the fridge and cupboards, and you can sleep on the couch"

 

He left without looking back, locking the door and humming to himself while playing with his car's key.

 

 

 

 

//


	2. Boy Meets Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, are you all alright? I hope yes~  
> First, I would like to thank the reviews, the kudos, the bookmarks, the everything you guys did for me! I honestly never expected so much support, and for that I'm deeply grateful.  
> Second, I'm sorry for taking so long in updating; I was in a tests week and couldn't breathe out of my books and papers. I'll try to be faster with the next one.  
> Last, but not least, please enjoy this chapter. It's not beta-ed, so forgive my mistakes and feel free to point them ^^  
> See yah all soon, I hope~

The drive to Eleanor's family house from his usually took Louis thirty five to forty minutes on a good day, considering that both places were in London, a huge fucking city that when wasn't raining, was snowing. Cold-and-white water (Liam used to refer snow this way, before Sophia, transferring the habit to him and making both Niall and Harry pout in their direction, saying that the term spoiled the romanticism, not that the false-blonde Irish lad had a bit of romanticism in his whole body, the hypocrite. Besides, how could that damn thing be romantic?) that pissed Louis off more than he let people know. 

   
Snow was annoying; it made you cold, turned your nose red and bright like a headlight, made you wear layers and layers of clothing that still didn't made you feel warm enough (and Louis hated wearing more than two layers of clothing, because, _come on_ , he had an damn amazing body and the world had the obligation to acknowledge it) and last, but not least, it made the world turn slower. The roads were all slippery so one had to drive carefully, this when the snow didn't covered all of them, incapacitating a hard-worker, tax-paying lad like him to leave his home.

 

The fact that it always snowed in all the twenty eight birthdays of his life had nothing to do with it.

 

Not at all.

 

(So he had to spend them inside somewhere; be a club, home or mom's home, it was still inside a place and it limited his right to come and go, as well as his friends' and family)

 

He didn't care.

 

Except when he _did._

 

Resuming: it was a shit day, and it took him one hour and ten minutes to arrive his destination.

 

The house was already full of people he didn't know, the sun barely shying away in the horizon. The ones he did know, it was by face; Louis was a dumb-fucker where names of irrelevant people were concerned, since he couldn't remember a single one, for  fuck's sake. El's small cousins (by small, Louis meant the teenagers; he would never get closer than 10 feet from the kids, the demon-brats) all worshiped the ground he passed by; the girls looked at him as if he was ice cream during a diet (he tasted great, according to Eleanor and previous partners) and he boys seemed to mirror their style in his (he let the poor idiots try).

 

"Louis! Finally" El's mother approached him, passing through the small crowd of teenagers that circled his form the minute he stepped inside "You're late... again"

 

Escaping a girl's attempt to hug him, Louis smiled, voice a sensuous drawl "Mama" he practically purred "You have to forgive this humble man for his delay, but I had to sort something  before coming"

 

The older woman smiled; Eleanor's exact smile "Maybe I'll forgive you; only if you say hello properly"

 

"My pleasure, mama"

 

He hugged her tight, kissing the woman's forehead tenderly and sending a hidden full glare to the brats, who quickly dispersed. A chuckle followed the action "Should I be jealous? Lou, mother?"

 

Oh, Eleanor. In all her brunette glory, hair long and wavy, heavily cascading down her back and warm eyes (slightly dazed, the alcohol already affecting her, the silly lightweight) glowing with humor and love.

 

Louis soaked in that emotions like a sponge; he did crave her and her emotions, they being clear in her face and heart; she being incapable of lying, of saying hurtful words in the peak of rage, only the truth. Sometimes it hurt more than if she simply screamed lies with the intention of hurting him; he felt like an arse after their fights, every time and without exception. In the end, he was the one who apologized (she was the only person he apologized to, besides his mother) and seek her out.

 

She completed him this way. While expressive, Louis' emotions tended to be superficial, he rarely showing his real thoughts to someone he didn't trusted completely, the list so short he could use one hand to count and it would be enough. Eleanor was the total opposite; if she was pleased, she was pleased, and if pissed off, she was pissed off. There wasn't a single strand of her long wavy hair capable of deceiving a person, they being a git or not. It took her a look at him to know his mood and to know the best way to act. At the same time, she didn't take his shit, scolding him every time she judged necessary.

 

Seeing her like this, in her radiant curls, tight blue dress and offering him one of her heart-stopping smiles, Louis thought it was worth it.

 

"You better watch yourself babe, 'cause your mama here sure looks good" he joked, enjoying their laughs.

 

"Mom has dad"

 

The older Calder played along "I dunno sweetheart. This lad here is hella gorgeous"

 

"Mom!"

 

"She's saying the truth El- I'm hella gorgeous"

 

A scoff "Let's all believe it so you and your gigantic ego won't be hurt"

 

He laughed low, lazily striding to stop by her side "Oh really? You don't think I'm a Greek god who descended from the Olympus to bless your life with my presence?" his face contorted in mocking hurt "I feel wounded" he finished by wrapping his arms around her waist. She rolled her eyes, mirth dancing in them, and did the same with his neck, wrapping it with her thin arms. They exchanged looks, the amusement quickly replaced by passion.

 

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, neither bothering with the curious glances or the fact that Eleanor's mom was still there, looking at the couple with a raised eyebrow and fond exasperation. Louis was never one to care for attention; in fact, he quite craved it, his own personality incapable of dealing with indifference and blankness. His job showed this feature clearly: as a CFO, his job resumed itself in charming people, something he admitted (without a single drop of modesty) being bloody brilliant. So he didn't hesitate in deepening the kiss, tasting sweet strawberry (probably the frosting of a cake), and wine, all mixed with Eleanor's natural taste, sweet and feminine. 

 

They separated when someone coughed; Eleanor's dad.

 

Not even a bit ashamed, Louis half released the younger Calder, keeping her close with one arm, as the other stretched out to shake the men's hand. Louis let himself smile, easygoing and confident; the older man couldn't resist his charm (as if there was someone with this ability), his slight scowl breaking into an grin. 

 

After a few change of words, Eleanor grabbed Louis' hand, saying to her parents that they needed to talk, alone. The two seemed to understand, and both went back to their family members, engaging rather smoothly in a group full of middle-aged women that made a shiver pass through Louis' spine; he'd be sure to stay away from them, to preserve his physical integrity. Those seemingly innocent aunties could put a sailor to shame with their language, and make a pervert a monk with their wandering hands. The last time he had give leverage to them, he ended up with more than one or two marks of lipstick, reeking of that perfume all old people seemed to use and feeling thoughtfully harassed.

 

A bloddy feat, taking into account it was him, Louis fucking-look-at-me-cause-I'm-the-best Tomlinson.

 

Eleanor guided him upstairs and towards her old room, and he started to expect a hot snogging session, satisfied for the millionth time in god knows how long for the girlfriend he got to himself. Aside the mind-blowing, fucking fantastic sex (like the one they'd probably have later, after more drinks and him dirty-talking in her ears for half an hour), he appreciated their making out simply because it still felt like the first time, when he was freshly out of uni and she was in her junior year. Louis knew when to tilt his head and to which direction; knew that she liked to take control of the first kisses before melting against his body, her soft curves fitting and contrasting with his solid form, her luscious hips gyrating in his lap just right to get him hot all over. His fingers had memorized each expanse of her body and how it reacted to them; a moan if he massaged her scalp, a whimper followed by a nip in his lower lip if he squeezed her thighs.

 

Damn, thinking about this was turning him on; like a fucking _teenager_ with no control of his hormones, who got hard at the thought of a pair of tits.

 

But, yeah, Eleanor's tits sure _were a sight..._  

 

"Lou, my face is up here" speaking of her, El spoke, voice full of sarcasm and one eyebrow up, a younger replica of her mother earlier.

 

Louis smirked, continuing to stare at her cleavage "Yup, I know, but I'm satisfied with my view"

 

She crossed her arms in front of her body, her boobs almost screaming at him to touch when pressed together like this. His throat felt dry, and suddenly (not really), he wanted to pounce on her and see part of his birthday present that he was sure she was wearing. So one of his big kinks was lingerie, fuck him for being a man with good taste.

 

"You can look at them later, but now, we need to talk"

 

The Tomlinson groaned; really? There they were, on her room with the door behind them locked and no one upstairs, with him already in the mood and she definitely wearing a nice, worthy of his wank-bank lingerie, and she wanted to talk? Fucking come on! "El!"

 

"No whining Tomlinson, or you won't get nothing of this" she pointed to her amazing tits "Tonight. Now, sit"

 

Begrudgingly obeying, he sat on her bed "So, my bossy lady?" 

 

"We need to talk about my travel and 'bout the pet Harry gave you" Eleanor scoffed, as if obvious.

 

Oh. _Oh._

 

Louis had completely forgotten the pet, it not important for him to think about; Eleanor's travel was another story. He grimaced, extremely displeased "My opinion about that is blatant El-- I'm fucking tired of these travels of yours"

 

"Direct" she sighed, sitting by his side and taking his hand between hers. They were so small and delicate compared to his, big and rough. "If it were you, you would go no matter what-- don't look at me like this, you know it's true, so listen. This is my job, me trying to make a difference. If I told you to quit your beloved job 'cause I'm tired of your lack of presence in our dates-"

 

"-You said that you underst..."

 

Eleanor threw a light glare in his direction, shutting his attempt to defend himself " _Shut up_. Lou, what I'm saying is that I'm going and the end. It'll be one of the shortest travels ever; just four months! I'll try to be here for a week in March, a lot better than the last time! Remember, I could only come once in six months!"

 

Exhaling deeply, still displeased but resigned, he agreed "My hand worked a lot; gained a few callouses"

 

"Louis!" the girl slapped him in the arm, mildly scandalized "I'm serious!"

 

"So am I"

 

He smiled slightly in seeing her expression relaxing a bit; he deemed his objective of distracting her a success "You're impossible"

  

"I'm bloody fantastic"

 

"Yeah, yeah, believe it if it make you happy" even with the eased tension of her brow, El continued to play with her hands, an habit of hers when facing a problem; Louis felt bad for making things difficult for her.

 

It was just that... Dammit, was it too much to ask for peace and stability? In the four years they were dating, Eleanor had spent one and a half out there, far away from Britain and specially, him. At the same time he prided himself for having perfected all the dynamics of a long-term relationship, he also couldn't help but feel pitiful; it meant he wasn't able to maintain his loved one near for extended periods of time, his ego suffering just like his steel covered heart, which always cracked because of her. 

 

Eleanor, Eleanor, Eleanor.

 

She _ruined_ him.

 

"... Lou?" low and childish, her voice echoed in the dead silent room. Her big doe eyes shone with a emotion akin to hesitation while she scooted closer to him, practically climbing on his lap. She cupped his face, caressing his cheekbones with her thumbs "I know it's hard-- damn Lou, you don't imagine how hard it's for me to stay away from you. We have this conversation every time I'm about to go, and by now, we're supposed to be used and ready, but... I love my job and I love you. Don't make me choose" a brief kiss in his lips, the last words whispered against them.

 

She played dirty, the little minx. "I won't. Doesn't mean I'm happy about you going fraternize with those _Shangrilá_ Indians or whatever"

 

Eleanor laughed "It's _Xingu,_ not _Shangrilá._ Xingu it's their reservation; Shangrilá is like the Hindu Heaven"

 

"Just like I said: whatever"

 

"My boyfriend is a twit"

 

"But fit as hell" he smirked, blinking flirtatiously "And why should I know this? So useless"

 

This earned him another damn painful slap in the arm and a roll of her eyes (again; Eleanor apparently thought he was some kind of dimwitted prat) "Fine, keep being a egocentric kid and tell me about Harry's present"

 

He was the one rolling his eyes this time "There's not much to say. The wanker gave me a male pet named Zayn. The end."

 

"Is it cute?"

 

Thinking about tanned skin, silk-looking hair, high cheekbones, full lips and the fucking golden eyes, Louis pouted "It is... enough"

 

"You're totally lying!" Eleanor accused, her own version of Louis' smirk plastered on her face "It is! Tell me about it, please! I always wanted one, but dad never let me! Please Lou-Lou!"

 

"After this Lou-Lou, _nevah"_ he smacked his lips together, empathizing the 'never' with his accent. Doncaster boy, he was. 

 

" _Looouis_!"

 

The CFO laughed out loud, delighted in seeing his girlfriend slowly relaxing, now that the serious subject had been dropped (but not forgotten) and a infinitely more light had come to surface. He would miss this dynamism in her time away, how they could move on without turbulence and indulge in each other with no worries of having to part with sour moods and regrets. Yeah, they had some ugly (fuck, some really fucking bad) rows, but they never lasted more than one week (or for fucking four bloody months once).  
If talking about that damned pet Harry-wanker-Styles had given him made her happy, so be it "Alright! It is cute, but handsome too. Jet black hair, tan skin, plump lips, killer cheekbones and fucking golden eyes-- come on, who has golden eyes?! It must be 19, 20 at most and..."

 

"Blimey, Lou, I totally need to meet it!" her eyes shone with an excitement that neared childishness "I'll go to your apartment after Christmas! It looks like a perfect pet!"

 

"Don't" the word escaped before he had time to think; at her flabbergasted face, he quickly explained "It is... Very shy, apparently, and insecure and too damn scared-- I think it..."

 

"... Need time? Aww love, you already care for it!"

 

"No at all! I just want to be sure the thing isn't dangerous before letting your gorgeous body near it" he made grabby hands to her boobs, and she pinched him, hard. "It was a compliment!"

 

"A rude one, nonetheless" she huffed, a small smile in her lips despite her complaint "Fine, I'll wait. Just wanted to see if you will take care of it, if you know what I mean, and where it's the best place to mark it"

 

"Mark?"

 

"Yes, or you plan to only put a collar on it?"

 

In all honesty, Louis hadn't thought about it.

 

The fashion these days was mark pets, each one unique and that helped a owner find their pet, if lost, since it contained the number of register, that once searched, showed the owner's information. Some marks were branded, others were tattooed; some owners didn't stay with pets for a long time, so they opted to just mark them by buying collars or shackles. The industry designated to them was one of the biggest and more ruthless out there, since a tidy, well dressed and accessorized pet generally meant a person with status. Clothes, collars, marks, everything was so fucking expensive that Louis sometimes thought of changing his area of work; deal with pets instead of humans.

 

He told the truth "I don't know. Didn't think about it yet"

 

"Some owner you are" Eleanor scrunched her nose in disapproval; Louis distracted her by sliding his hands down her body, lifting the soft material of her dress to fondle with the supple flesh of her thighs. She let out a small moan.

 

"Give me a break" he nuzzled her neck, placing a kiss in the union between it and her shoulder "I'll mark it with a big tattoo and a bigger collar, so no lonesome scum will question my superiority, satisfied?"

 

Eleanor couldn't answer, not with Louis thoughtfully taking care of her; with well placed kisses on the expanse of her neck, little nips here and there that surely would leave love bites later . His hands adventured higher, feeling the start of her panties, and his throat went dry at a texture that had to be lace, frilly and soft against his fingertips. Breaking himself from her creamy neck, he looked  down, encountering lacy dark green panties, embroidered patters of flowers and vines. He growled, perfectly content with the view.

 

"We're not going downstairs" he said, yanking her dress down, revealing the upper part of her underwear, the same dark green lace inviting him. The dress polled around her waist, exhibiting more of pale, perfect skin.

 

She barely nodded; barely coherent anymore, and he pounced on her, throwing her on the bed and climbed on top of her.

 

Fuck her family, his birthday, Christmas or Zayn the pet.

 

He had more important business to sort out.

 

 

 


	3. 'Cause I'm Trying Too Hard Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hello again ^^  
> Passing to say thank you to everyone who gave this Zouis fic support, being by reading it, giving it kudos or reviews. I'm very thankful to all of you~  
> So, in this chapter we'll have a bit of Louis x Zayn interaction... Not really~  
> Hope you all enjoy, please forgive me for my mistakes. I don't have a beta, so it's only me, the Word, and my not-that-great vocabulary to deal with spelling errors and etc.

Louis left Eleanor's house by the 27th, after lunch, with his appetite sated... both of them.

 

Sated to the point of not bitching, correction. complaining (bitching was for the types like Harry The Greatest Wanker, and no, he wouldn't stop calling him names for some time) about the somewhat rude way his girlfriend kicked him out of the house, saying that she had to prepare her things for her trip and that with him there, she kept being distracted.

 

So, the bang-Eleanor-until-she-forgets-the-damn-fucking-travel plan didn't worked.

 

He at least tried.

 

But damn, if thinking about this didn't make him irrationally angry. Angry at her, at himself, at the fucking world for being so fucked up to the point of needing good people like his girl. The shit-Xingu-thing didn't need her! They were doing fine by themselves and the ecologists there, but _noooo_. Eleanor had to talk to those creepy arseholes in her work that bathed once a week to preserve water, who putted ideas in her pretty head and boom, made her leave.

 

Louis groaned, gripping the car's steering wheel tighter and turning off the stereo, interrupting Adele in one of her ear-shattering high notes. Thank whatever god out there for the scarce snow in the streets (the last day of snow was his birthday, 'course, because it had to snow in it to keep the tradition), making the traffic slightly better and the roads not that slippery.

 

In the end, he only cursed one driver (a fat ginger woman who passed him without signalizing) and a cat (black, but fuck it, he wasn't superstitious) for appearing in the middle of the road out of nowhere, arriving home after the normal forty minutes he usually took to go from it to Eleanor's family house.

 

He took the lift to his condo, playing with his keys and with his thoughts finally turning to his new... companion, per say.

 

He still didn't know what to do with the pet, Zayn. He'd never owned one before, neither had much acquaintanceship with people who had and Niall didn't count; the Irish lad never brought his pet (a very young female, apparently) to their gatherings, and every time he and the other lads (Harry and Liam) went to the blonde's house, the pet was locked in its room or taking care of the baby-pets Niall's neighbor had. This, and, well, Niall was a laid back kind of bloke who could barely feed himself, his pet unusually independent and that cared for him in exchange for his affection. So, no good references.

 

Louis knew the basics; of course, he wasn't that much of a ignorant twit. He knew that he had to mark it (he already had some ideas for a damn awesome tattoo), buy it a collar and keep it fed and warm. Most pets wore old clothes that belonged to their owners, since it smelt like them and pets liked it for some weird reason. They were openly affectionate, yearning for approval and love. Usually pretty stupid too; most couldn't read or write or do much without help, closer to animals than humans in their actions rather than appearance. He had to take it to a veterinarian specialized in cat-hybrids (a more 'scientific' name and shit) to see if there was some problem with it and also, to discover its type.

 

A bit like humans, pets had a blood type, but they also had what people called the A or O type. Similar to a type A or B person, their A and O stood for Alpha and Omega (Louis mocked the name often; Alpha and Omega? Pets were not wolves, or even dog-like in looks), which generally meant important things. An Alpha type was more independent, a pet who could take care of itself to a certain level, more advanced than the Omega types; they were fierce and protective, popular with elders and couples with children. The Omega type was the exact opposite, easy to handle and ridiculously dependent to their owners, often needing a demonstration of love, and they were quite popular with adults and teenagers.

 

Both were good in bed, Louis had heard, so this was what mattered the most in his list. Honestly, he preferred an A type, but judging his fifteen minutes in Zayn's presence, how the pet looked terrified with the prospective of being rejected, the certainty of its O status was strong.

 

A sneer escaped his lips at the realization; he now had a clingy pet full of necessities.

 

Yeah, right.

 

Not on his watch; fuck the A or O or whatever type the pet was, Louis would treat him the way he wanted, and fuck recommendations or scolding gazes. The pet was his, he had the right to do anything.

 

Louis entered his home as a man in a mission; as soon as he resolved all the things involving Zayn. He never was one for procrastination, naturally too anxious and occupied to let things pile up to be resolved in the last second. More often than not he finished everything early, what let him laze around until a idiot from his work screwed something over and he had to clean their shit.

 

Having barely locked the door behind him, Louis was fairly surprised at seeing Zayn scrabbling in his direction, stopping a few steps in his front, hands clutched together in the front of his body, and head low, tail swinging, eager "Welcome back, Master"

 

Oh, _wow._

 

Louis couldn't exactly hide his satisfaction at the term "Zayn" he said, testing the name in his tongue, it rolling easier than imagined. The pet's back straightened up, ready to obey "Get ready. We're going out"

 

"Y-Yes!" it stuttered, not questioning and quickly heading to the bathroom.

 

In its absence, Louis took in the house, noticing that it looked... The same. There wasn't a single trace indicating that the pet (dirty dishes, a blanket in the couch, any-fucking-thing, not that he minded) had been around for the past two days, but the pet itself.

 

Throwing his go bag on the floor, Louis fixed himself a cup of water and went to his room to change clothes, taking off the simple combination of sweatshirt and trousers (he was family in Eleanor's, he wore whatever pleased him) and putting on dark jeans and a thick white shirt beneath a blue jersey and a grey scarf. He styled his hair in that my-bed-hair-is-better-than-yours quiff, not bothering to shave the light stubble on his chin and cheeks, liking the almost untidy look.

 

It didn't take him twenty minutes to get ready, and he returned to the living room, meeting Zayn ready, by the door. He wore the jumper of two days ago (he didn't have anything else, the CFO remembered, another issue he had to address), and a pair of slippers that were too big on him; Harry’s, probably. The midnight dark hair was pulled upwards, further sharpening its face and brightening its golden eyes, which glanced in Louis’ direction, big and ready to do all he wanted.

 

“Let’s go” he said.

 

The pet nodded in agreement, opening space for Louis to pass and open the door; it waited until Louis made a signal indicating it could move forward.

 

Zayn’s clothing probably wasn't the best choice to go out; not in this climate, cold and snowy, but Louis just forgot about it.

 

Both stayed in silence in the ride to London’s; Zayn because it was the silent type (thank the god that heard him; no whiny bitch then) and Louis because he didn't want to talk to the pet; he gained the thing unwillingly and wasn't accustomed with it just yet, the idea of having to care for anyone other than himself and Eleanor sour in his mouth just as much as the uncomfortable notion that he was supposed to offer it love so easily, carelessly.

 

He learned early in his life that offering love carelessly was a fool’s move; his dad (the bastard) left his mother when he was very young, leaving his mother to fetch for herself and him. As a toddler he couldn't record all of their difficulties, but he remembered his mother crying at night, when the monthly bills came and exhausted from her two jobs, she saw that it was barely enough to make through it. She had two boyfriends from his two to five years, and both broke her heart to tiny pieces, one even hitting him after he cried on one occasion. His stepfather had been a saint in both of their lives, and while Louis was thankful to the man, it took him months to start to trust him, a child awfully aware of the damage adults could make to each other, and latter, a wary teenager and adult.

 

To be expected to give love like this… Louis wouldn’t.

 

It had started to snow by the time they arrived Louis destination: _Black Ink,_ a place known for its high quality tattoos and marks, specialized in pets (and very easy to find, once the GPS defined the route) and side-by-side to _Ms. Cam,_ a chic store for pet accessories.

 

Two matters resolved at once. Typical of Louis, if someone asked; after that, the veterinarian was only four streets down.

  

Louis decided to go first on the tattoo shop, ready to put his idea on Zayn’s skin, being the tattoo-lover he was. The pet followed him, never by his side, but two steps behind, and head low, just like his unmoving tail and his black ears; a damn submissive action, increasing Louis’ suspicion of its O status.

 

The shop was exquisite; walls decorated with several different designs for amazing tattoos (rainbow feathers, wolves, colorful birds, fairies, beautiful phrases, so fucking many that was impossible to keep track), shelves exhibiting the intricate iron-sticks used to brand (leaves, swirls, ropes, an enormous snake…) and the collars, just as diverse as the rest. There was a girl (with a piercing in her nose that made her look like a cow) on the counter-top made to attend clients, reading a book (Fifty Shades of Gray, Louis took notice with distaste). A buzz could be faintly heard, indicating a pet being marked.

 

She lifted her eyes when Louis fake-coughed “Oh, Welcome! What can I do to help?”

 

“A tattoo for it” short, Louis inclined his head in Zayn’s way.

 

"It?” the girl looked for the pet. Rolling his eyes at her, Louis gave one step for the right, revealing the pet, who hide behind him “Zaynie!”

 

What?

 

Frowning, Louis asked “You know it?”

 

“Yep! Zaynie is…” she stopped, apparently seeing something in the pet’s expression that made her stop “Hm… Never mind– I-I’ll call one someone to help you!” she left, scurrying out of his view.

 

“So, you already came here” Louis said, turning his head to Zayn, lifting one eyebrow in acquisition.

 

“… Yes, my master”

 

“How many times?”

 

The pet opened its mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a spirited voice “Zayn’s back! With another master, I see!” that belonged to a fucking mountain of a man, with shaved head and ink covering every visible surface of his skin.

 

“Mr. Anthony” Zayn whispered, bowing lightly.

 

Louis sensed his frown deepening, his displeasure evident in his face. The man saw, expertly directing his attention to him “I’m Anthony McCarty, the owner and tattoo artist”

 

“Louis Tomlinson”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” Anthony grinned “So, you’re Zayn’s new master– What can I do for you?”

 

Louis clicked his tongue. He didn’t like the lad– too fucking friendly and open, so he answered, direct “Wings”

 

“Good, I like wings. Where?”

 

He pointed to his own chest “Here. On the middle”

 

Anthony, whose shit-eating grin was starting to test Louis’ patience, nodded “Give me fifteen minutes. Until then, please fill the forms with your information so I can put in Zayn here”

 

The girl with the cow piercing gave him a five-page form to complete with both his and Zayn’s information; Louis grumbled about this being too complicated and how pets were trouble. Zayn bit his lip hard, and clutched his hands together in front of his body.

 

For almost ten minutes the only noises in the place were the light scratch of pen against paper and the continuous buzz of a tattoo machine. When finished, Louis got up (he sat on a shitty chair to complete the forms) and brought the recently filled pages to the counter-top, handing it to the girl, who grabbed it and started to copy some of the things in a smaller piece of paper, to handle it to Anthony later, so he could incorporate them on Zayn’s mark.

 

Before she went away, Louis spoke “I want that collar too” lifting his index finger, he indicated the collar he spoke about.

 

He resisted the urge to smirk (lie, he smirked broadly) when her jaw kind of dropped “That– That one?”

 

"Yeah”

  

The collar was something else; a thick band of silver, with carved small diamonds and a bloody gigantic sapphire on its centre, shining brightly and damn… The way it shone screamed _more fucking expensive than someone’s fucking yearly income._ Louis was no specialist when it came to jewellery, but he had some experience on the field, being very fond of gifting Eleanor’s with bigger pieces every commemorative date; a gold necklace with an (again, too damn big) emerald on her birthday, a pair of white gold with rubies earrings this Christmas. Oh, this and the white gold ring she wore, similar to his own, simpler and in silver.

 

By his side (the pet followed him like a shadow, bloody silently) Zayn audibly gasped, golden eyes widening comically, cartoon-like. “My Master I– It’s too much I… I’m not worth it”

 

“Maybe you’re not” Louis waved a hand dismissively “But you’re mine now, and I only accept the best”

 

Zayn next action surprised the businessman more than he would never admit, not under seduction or torture.

 

It smiled.

 

It fucking _smiled._

 

A big stretch of lips, not showing teeth, and so dazzling that the counter-top girl made a choked noise, blushing beet red at the sight. Its eyes thinned in a way that only two lines were left, the long thick lashes brushing high cheekbones flushed with colour and delight. Its ears were high on his head, and his tail swung madly side to side, more like an overexcited puppy than a cat. “Thank you master!” it said, its unwavering smile present and directed solely to Louis.

 

Suddenly, a vision of it filled his mind; its back against his dark sheets, face contorted in white hot pleasure and agony as Louis teased it over and over again, marking its dark skin with his lips, tracing every curve and dip, all while hearing its breathless moans and whimpers of " _M-Master!"_ passing through abused red lips. Golden eyes clearer with the tears Louis would make it shed and...

 

 _Fucking_ stop.

 

He huffed, feigning indifference and subtly adjusting his jeans “Whatever”

 

The girl kept looking at him wide eyed and mouth open, gaping like a fish would. “Mr.…”

 

“I’ll have to bloody repeat myself?” turning to her, he glared, taking out of his pocket his wallet and a black credit card.

 

She picked it with trembling hands, muttering hushed apologies.

 

Payment made (mark included, after sizing the dimension he wanted in his pet’s chest, and damn if that thing wasn’t pricey too), Anthony appeared, ignorant to the collar’s purchase. “I made some sketches for you, Tomlinson. There are some old models too, but I guarantee that none was used”

 

“You better be saying the truth. I didn’t pay a fucking gigantic sum of money for some shabby sketch already used”

 

Looking the different models, Louis grudgingly admitted (mentally) the talent behind the lines; some wings were very simple and yet beautiful, while others had so many details that Louis questioned one’s ability to put the amount of delicate patterns in Zayn’s lithe chest. There were others too, less numerous, of wings with simple designs but equally pretty, some colorful and others black n’ white. Finally, the one who caught his attention wasn’t the most complex or excessively simple; a pair of wings with sharp feathers, in white and a dark grey.

 

“This one?” Anthony asked, appearing behind him, his shit-eating grin ever present.

 

After one step forward so he could distance himself from the big bulk oaf, Louis nodded, not bothering to spend saliva on the man. He looked at his pet, thinking if he should ask its opinion.

 

Then he remembered it didn’t matter. If he wanted to brand a dick in its body, the pet wouldn’t have a word on it. It was Louis’.

 

“Then let’s go Zayn. Mr. Tomlinson, you can come too, if you wish so”

 

Louis agreed, following the man to a separate room, with a couch of comfy appearance, a chair with recliner for the pet and a smaller seat for Anthony, whose hand indicated the couch to Louis and the chair to Zayn.

 

Louis’ pet seemed… fidgety, for lack of better word. If in the reception it was glowing with happiness at the sight of its new collar, now its instance showed discomfort and–

 

Was that _fear_ in its golden jewelry-like eyes?

 

Bloody fantastic, Louis though; my pet is scared of needles.

 

“Zayn, take off your jumper, will you?”

 

Zayn bit its lip (the damn pet did that a lot, distracting Louis from things and making him focus of those full, pink lips) and lowered its head, not complying with Anthony’s request. It played with the sleeves of its jumper, pushing the fabric down, as if trying to cover more.

 

Louis wasn’t having any of that “Take it off– _Now_ ” he ordered.

 

His pet lifted its eyes for him, gold shining with what could be described as held back tears; it obeyed though, Louis order something so absolute to be took as law. Sitting warily on the chair, Zayn grabbed the hem of Louis’ jumper, pushing it upwards, pass its head and down its arms, so it polled around his wrists.

 

_Holy shit._

 

 

 

_Oh fucking god._

 

 

 

What the _bloody hell_ was that?!

 

 

 

 

Zayn’s tanned skin was _full_ of marks; an enormous snake on its shoulder and back, a bird between its shoulder blades. A red mouth on the center of its chest, a flower on its forearm and a black heart on its hip.

  

Five fucking marks.

 

Zayn was a pet who had fucking _five_ bloody marks on its body.

 

 

 


	4. All I Feel Is Strange (In Your Perfect World)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, hello~?
> 
> I'm really, really sorry for taking so long in updating; I don't have any excuse for being late but the fact that I wasn't inspired and tests in my school are simply... devilish. But I'm here with a new chapter~!
> 
> Thank you everyone who reviewed, left kudos, bookmarks or keeps accompanying silently. I love you all~
> 
> So, someone asked in a review if Louis will keep thinking in Zayn as an 'it'. He will, but only for two, three chapters top. It's annoying for all of us and I keep forgetting while I write, but please, bear for a little longer. Remember that for Louis, Zayn is only a pet he doesn't want (yet), so it's not wrong in his mind.
> 
> Some Zouis interaction, finally!
> 
> (Chapter name came from fabulous music Strange, by Tokio Hotel feat. Kerli Koiv)  
> (Oh, and Louis is an idiot for the sake of the fic. Sorry Tommo)

Louis really didn’t know what to do, something that was a feat in itself.

 

All he could possibly do in the moment was stare at Zayn’s body like a bloody idiot, eyes racking the whole expanse of its torso, absorbing all his icy blue eyes could at once, the engines in his head turning and spinning as it tried to comprehend the image before him. Sinewy lines formed the serpent curled in Zayn’s shoulder, so fucking different from the red kiss, delicate and feminine, in its chest, the lotus flower on its forearm or the somehow simple, almost childish heart in its hip. Louis hadn’t seen the bird clearly, but he could say that the tattoo was just as different as the rest.

 

There was no damn way that Zayn had only one owner before, that for some shitty reason decided to use the pet’s body as a canvas. The pet in front of him had more than one owner; five if the tattoos were any indication, and they were.

 

“So, let’s get started?” apparently Anthony had felt the growing tension between owner and pet. Louis knew his face wasn’t the best he had (his eyes tented to narrow and his lips thinned, menacing, every time he was displeased) out of his wide range of expressions, and Zayn… The pet looked sick, ghastly pale and trembling lips, its golden orbs so frightened the tattooist thought it saw a ghost. “Mr. Tomlinson?”

 

Louis didn’t answer right away. The engines inside his head were still sliding together, processing the situation and trying to come up with an efficient solution.

 

He couldn’t simply give the pet back to wanker-Styles (even if he wished so very fervently in the moment) now that he’d already bought the most fucking expensive collar in the fucking store and paid for the damn tattoo too. Well, he kind of could, since he felt, and was deceived. No one thought of notifying him about Zayn’s current condition as a worn as shit pet. Never, ever in the CFO’s life, he heard of a pet being owned by five different owners, six, if he counted his own person. Two owners were the normal; three and the pet had some problem. Four was scandalous and five unheard of.

 

Until now.

 

“… Mr. Tomlinson?”

 

The bloody man needed to stop calling him; was he either blind of daft to not see Louis’ internal struggle?

 

Exhaling loudly, Louis ran a hand through his hair, messing all of his earlier work and finding he didn't care. Ignoring Anthony (the damn, loud, lowlife of a motherfuc…), he looked at Zayn. Sitting in the chair with shrunken shoulders and worrying its lower lip raw, his pet’s aura exuded misery and that tinge of fear Louis still didn’t comprehend, clear in its golden eyes and low ears.

 

It probably thought Louis wouldn’t want it anymore, throwing it in some bloody kennel, where _things_ happened (Louis didn't know what exactly what, but noting good could come out of that dark, eerily silent Victorian-like construction in one rather… dubious neighbourhood). Only those who worked there knew what things were accomplished, so people gossiped. About experiments to create other hybrids mixing the DNA of other animals like dogs and birds; about them being used as lab-rats, testing drugs, chemicals weapons and modified aliments.

 

… In Louis’ line of work, he learned early about never doubting such gossip. Most of them had some truth, and pets apparently knew this too, instinctively or they simply were too afraid of rejection.

 

Much like a true animal-pet (heavens be damned, they were just as tough to deal with, with bloody fur everywhere and wet tongues), a hybrid-pet feared rejection, and Zayn certainly knew a lot about this word “I can hear you– Bloody start already, I don’t have all day” he said before really resolving his inner turmoil.

 

Zayn snapped its head in his direction, and Louis could fucking swear the pet held him as some sort of god, its eyes wide and shining with tears and full of devotion, directed only at him. Its face flushed, dark skin turning darker with the sudden rush of blood, and Zayn, from wretched appearance, unexpectedly turned fascinating to watch, its lithe form bare and pleading attention; even from where he was, Louis saw how soft it appeared, ready to be touched by his hands.

 

… It would, but later.

 

Louis would make sure to fucking use that whole expanse of dark skin, adding more of his marks to it.

 

He walked towards Zayn, only stopping when they were face-to-face, icy blue facing golden amber. Lifting his hand, he cupped the pet’s cheek and _goddammit_ , it was just as soft and Louis initially thought “Later you and I will talk, but do not worry– As I said before, you’re mine now”

 

“Master Louis…” Zayn spoke with that velvety voice, a sensuous drawl overflowing with emotion, and a single tear fell off his eyes. “My Master–… I’m so blessed in being yours”

 

Louis considered saying something, but opted against it, simply caressing Zayn’s cheek almost lovingly (yeah, fucking no; Louis didn’t do _lovingly)_ and listening with interest to the purr that erupted from its chest at the same time its fluffy ears fluttered happily. Had he been some softy wanker like Liam, maybe he would think Zayn’s actions as cute ones, considering everything.

 

The thing was: Louis wasn’t some softy fucking wanker.

 

It didn’t stop him from giving just one step towards the pet though, eyes softening ever so slightly before the happy little smile and constant low purring sound.

 

“I… Well– I’m gonna start” Anthony semi-whispered, embarrassed at seeing a scene so intimate. Feigning a cough, the Tomlinson stepped back, nodding. “Zayn already knows how things work, no problem then. You can wait in the reception or come later– This will take some time.”

 

Zayn shot Louis an imploring glance, not completely convinced with Louis’ willingness in keeping it “I spent too much money to simply leave, so don’t get your knickers in a twist, foolish pet” he smirked in the end “I’ll be next door, looking for some accessories for you.”

 

“Right! I’m sorry Master” Zayn blushed harder than previously, but smiled slightly, waving a covered in jumper hand “Please be careful”

 

Rolling his eyes at his pet’s mannerisms, Louis went out of the room, not batting an eye in the cow-girl’s way as he left the tattoo store, entering the one in its right.

 

 _Ms. Cam_ was impressive, much like _Black Ink_ had been; the two-floor store made him blink once or twice, too bright to bear immediately, decorated with golden, silver, golden, pink, golden and guess what? More fucking golden. The color was everywhere, shining and trying to pass a chic image, surely to compensate the expensive prices the place undoubtedly had. Upon his arrival, Louis easily located the clothes section, as well as the accessories to complement collars and shackles as well as the pet itself, selling the idea of a bloody walking Christmas tree.

 

A boy with a fake smile and discreet piercing on his ear (what was with brats these days and their shitty notion of fashion? They looked like pets themselves, with those ridiculous pieces of metal hanging from their bodies) appeared out of nowhere, asking if Louis would like help to choose whatever he wanted to buy in there. Louis kindly (a kind fuck off) told him he didn’t want any help, and made his way towards the clothes section.

 

For the next three hours he shopped, choosing what pleased him the most. Lots of jumpers of his size (because Zayn looked cut–… couldn’t wear all of his own), some pairs of trousers with little holes for the tail, enough underwear for a month without laundry, three pairs of shoes and a leather headband later, Louis felt like he had bought the minimum for the pet to survive without having to annoy him about his fucking needs. Also, the tattoo was probably done and now he could finally lead the pet to their next (and last, for fuck’s sake) destination: the veterinarian. That after grabbing some food; he was hungry.

 

He paid wearing a self-righteous smile during all the process, pleased by the way the boy’s eyes went huge at the quantity of his purchase and the price (goddammit, a five digit purchase, again, probably more than someone’s _yearly income_ ). Not wanting at all to carry so many bags, Louis gently (smugly, because he fucking could) requested his acquisitions to be delivered in his home. He left the store empty handed but bloody satisfied; entered the _Black Ink_ expecting his Zayn ready to go.

 

He didn’t bother in announcing his presence as he walked straight to the room Zayn was being tattooed, opening the door with little care, barging inside to find Anthony wrapping his pet’s torso with PVC paper, the freshly made wings jutting out of its skin, swollen and red. It winced when the tattooist patted its shoulder, exhibiting a shark-like smile directed to the pet. “Yah’re ready to go Zaynie. Remember to change the paper thrice a day and wash it carefully for the next four days, ya?” Anthony said, seemingly unaware of Louis’ presence.

 

The same couldn’t be said for Zayn, who kept his gaze on Louis since his arrival, golden, fixed and tender “… I know” he answered absentmindedly.

 

“My timing is just perfect” Louis smirked, crossing his arms in front of his torso. He approached the pet, analyzing the tattoo. Even recent and swollen as it was, he could see the soft lines, the symmetrical sides and the grayish shadows that contrasted and matched so well with the tanned skin. The red lips tattoo was still there, right in the middle, and while it mildly annoyed him, Louis had to swallow his pride and admit (to himself, of fucking course) that the old mark somehow complimented his own. Overall, his mark looked _good,_ his number of identification; the one cops used to contact him in case Zayn got lost or someone questioned him as rightful owner, visible on one long feather _._

 

Goddammit, it looked great in the expanse of Zayn’s slender chest, and a weird possessive thought dominated his mind.

 

_Mine. Only mine._

 

Fucking hell, what was that?

 

Frowning with the errant thought, Louis quickly offered himself an excuse. Egoism was a common trait of his personality, he more often than not not sharing what he considered his. Possessiveness was an adjacent feeling, clearly associated with the other, easily coming to surface for simplistic reasons, which consisted basically of Zayn being his pet and no one else’s.

 

“Master Louis?” Zayn’s velvety voice called for him, and he looked up, meeting an apprehensive but beautiful face “It is of your satisfaction?”

 

”Uh? Ah yes, you look good with it”

 

Zayn blushed, smiling and yet again making Louis’ heart give a strange twist, his mind filling with the inappropriate type of thinking. It covered itself with the jumper, standing.

 

The action made the two bodies impossibly close, Zayn’s warm breath reaching Louis’ face as the two sets of eyes stared right into one another. Instinct made the CFO lift his hand to brush the black fringe out of the pet’s forehead, fingers entwining in the soft locks to push them backwards. Louis felt the fluffy ears moving, and with his mind set, touched one.

 

A low sound, akin to a whimper erupted from Zayn’s pink lips.

 

To say that the Tomlinson was bloody satisfied was a fact.

 

To say that Zayn looked like a tomato also was a fact.

 

“You like this?” he asked rhetorically, moving his other hand to touch the left ear. He caressed them in slow circular movements, adding pressure on its tip, tugging it to feel the cartilage and the flutter they made in his hands. Anyone could see how Zayn’s eyelashes quivered and its chest rumbled with a loud purr, its own hands hesitatingly gripping Louis’ leather covered biceps, a mute pleading for more.

 

“Hm– A-Ah, _yes”_ it moaned more than said, breathily exhaling.

 

The Tomlinson felt a strange pulling in his chest, a burning desire mixed with a nearly familiar possessiveness; he threw a glare in Anthony’s direction, surprised when he saw the other men wasn’t there, having left to give master and pet some privacy. Smirk back in place, he continued with his ministrations, enjoying the not at all concealed moans that tumbled out of Zayn’s mouth every time he pressed its ears a little bit more. By that moment, their bodies were flush against each other, waves of heat emanating from them and making Louis’ trousers slightly uncomfortable. 

 

If it was like this with a mere caress in its ears, Louis was eager to find out how it would react when they went back to the condo, where he would strip the pet in one go and fuck it roughly, make it plead for him to slow down at the same time it begged for more with those very plump lips. Zayn seemed always so ready to please, that going down on Louis with these same lips was going to be a sure pleasure for the pet. Really, Eleanor was right when she said Harry had had a good idea in–

 

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

 

She hadn’t even gone to her damned trip and he was already thinking in ways to fuck a bloody pet silly. What kind of boyfriend was him? She herself had said that it wasn’t cheating if it was with a pet, but damn it, he should at least have the decency of waiting for her to leave.

 

Damn, now that sounded even worse. As if Louis was waiting for her to leave so he could fuck the pet.

 

“M-Master...?” Zayn squeaked, returning Louis’ focus to the boy right on his front; his hands were turning Zayn’s ears in a way that had to be painful “Your grip, too– Strong!”

 

Their body contact came to an end as Louis stepped back, letting go of Zayn so quickly the pet tripped on its own feet, its face lowering immediately in submission. Zayn’s hands slowly came together to rest on the top of its dark hair, caressing its ears with eyes glued in Louis, expecting any kind of reaction, a scold rather than a reassurance, judging the quivering lips held by white teeth.

 

The Doncaster lad groaned, rubbing his nose’s bridge, an act to calm down. He didn’t apologized, but he also didn’t scold the pet, opting to just say “We’re done here. Let’s go grab something to eat so we can go to a veterinarian and finish for today”

 

Zayn nodded repeatedly, heading for the door.

 

As they were leaving the place (Anthony waving like they were _friends_ , the twat), Louis decided to put the collar around Zayn’s neck, the surprisingly light (still heavy as shit, but as heavy as it appeared from afar) object shining expensively from the elegant neck. The silver made a stark contrast with the dark skin, the sapphire in the middle enhancing the golden of Zayn’s eyes, golden and blue just… beautiful together.

 

The girl with the cow-like piercing handed him a receipt, babbling something about insurance and bla-bla-bla.

 

They bought something to eat in their way towards the veterinarian, located merely four streets down from where they were. Louis devoured a sandwich with a cuppa, Zayn shyly nibbling a chocolate biscuit till both were done at the same time. He smugly observed more than one pair of eyes following them as the people in the street took notice of the large collar heavily resting in his pet’s neck; Zayn in itself was a sight to be seen, flushed and prettier than everyone but its owner. A woman with a pet of her own was the only one who frowned, scoffing after throwing him a glare.

 

Envious bitch.

 

The veterinarian clinic owner was a woman whose name was Jade Thirlwall, a twenty-something woman with good ratings in some trusting opinion site. Christmas had been only two days ago, and the streets weren’t exactly functioning at their full capacity, so the clinic being devoid of whiny, spoiled pets and overly sweet owners really made Louis day. He wanted to go home, sprawl onto his couch, turn on the television and scroll through his twitter, maybe look up some projects and advance his presentations. Indeed, Boss had asked his to…

 

“Welcome” the pretty brunette he imagined being Jade said, smiling “How can I help you?”

 

Louis gave a step to the right, revealing Zayn (again, acting like his shadow, never by his side or in front) to the veterinarian “I just got it, and it needs a checkup. I also want to see his medical history.”

 

“I can arrange that” she smiled, only to frown seconds later, as her eyes settled on the figure behind him. “You left home with him in _this_ condition?!”

 

“Yeah?” confused, Louis agreed.

 

“Oh, dear God! Come on sweetie, let me get you some covers” Jade passed through Louis, picking Zayn’s hand on hers “What’s your name, baby boy?”

 

“Zayn, ma’am” Zayn whispered, accepting her hand.

 

“What a pretty name! Your first owner was Pakistani? Am I right?” she continued to ask, leading it on to a room, Louis quietly following after ignoring the ill-concealed glare.

 

“N-No, I mean– Mom and Dad were– They came from Pakistan with their owners”

 

So, Louis didn’t know about that.

 

Then again, he really didn’t know anything about Zayn.

 

“Wah, that’s really cool baby boy” Jade beamed, picking three thick covers and dropping on the pet’s lap.

 

It was only then that Louis noticed the tiny tremors that shook the slim body, hands trembling as Zayn fumbled with the material, feet a light shade of blue and plump lips faint pink, a step to become white. A bloody uncomfortable feeling made his stomach ache with bile as he saw (really saw, like, paid attention) how his little, delicate pet seemed to feel pain, each movement slow as it covered itself up to its neck, still focused in answering the veterinarian.

 

Damn, bloody hell, shit, _fuck._

 

He may not like (remembering that like and lust were absolutely different things) the pet, but that was downright abusive. Louis could be an arsehole most of the time, but he wasn’t some kind of jock who took pleasure in causing others pain (maybe discomfort) of any sort. To neglect Zayn to the point of freezing the damn pet’s feet, was too much. Why it didn’t say anything?! Was it stupid or simply too fucking masochist to open its mouth? For goodness sake, obedience and the will to please had to have a limit.

 

Hell, it explained the glare both women (the bitch on the street and Jade) were throwing at him.

 

Great, he had paraded past several streets with a freezing pet behind him, like a spoiled brat exhibiting a new toy.

 

“… a few years later I was born” Zayn finished telling a story which Louis hadn’t heard a word about. The covers were polling around his lap as the Thirlwall woman examined his chest with a stethoscope while not taking off Louis’ jumper, her hand inside it.

 

“That’s fascinating– Your parents were very brave” Jade looked genuinely impressed as she turned, this time coming back with a small lantern-like thing. “Look here”

 

As soon as the light hit Zayn’s eyes, the golden color intensified, and it tried to close them “Bright”

 

“A bit sensitive then, uh?” she went to the other side “Keep telling me about yourself. How old are you?”

 

“I’m… Twenty two” a quick apprehensive look shot in Louis’ direction, before Zayn’s focus was on Jade again.

 

Louis felt his temper boiling. Zayn never seemed at ease next to him, the only-talk-when-talked-to treatment applying apparently only to his person. He knew Anthony and let the other men treat him like an old friend and now he answered Jade’s questions without much of hesitation, stopping to seek for permission or to guarantee he hadn’t say something wrong only in topics he though Louis would disapprove of.

 

Was he that fucking scary?

 

“You’re still so young… What do you like doing?”

 

“I…”

 

“I’m not one to stop other people’s bonding” Louis butted in “But honestly, I could use less chit-chat and more work”

 

The veterinarian opened her mouth, but Zayn was the one speaking “I’m sorry Master”

 

“Well, I’m not. Mr. Tomlinson, since you don’t appear to pay a lot of attention to your new companion, judging the way you left him to freeze–”

 

“… It never said anything!”

 

“…–I must tell you that Zayn here has a history of panic attacks during doctor’s appointments in his early years, and even though they don’t happen for quite some years, I’m not one to risk my patient’s well-being, so please, let me do my job the way I know it” she caressed Zayn’s hair, soothing the panicked look in its face “Besides, Zayn here is a Omega, right babe? A shy one at that, so he wouldn’t complain”

 

The younger boy nodded, playing with the tip of its tail.

 

A mild ache settled between Louis’ eyes, and the desire to kill, mutilate, massacre The Greatest Mistake of His Life, known as Harry Styles, came back full force.

 

A too quiet Omega with five (now six) marks and history of panic attacks for a pet.

 

Fucking wonderful.

 

He didn’t have luck in this, had he?

 

“Give it a drug so it can sleep during this whole damn thing if you want to avoid the epileptic shit, but hurry. I’m paying for your work, so do it”

 

Arsehole much? Yeah, people did call him that.

 

Jade opted for ignoring him “You have your little hands full with this bloke, Zayn darling, but don’t worry too much” she picked another equipment, aiming for its ears “These type of guys who think they rule the world normally are the ones who become the most protective and dependent, you’ll see”

 

“Don’t put ideas in its head. I don’t want to deal with the disappointment when it realize the lie”

 

“See Zayn? Already protective”

 

“Woman…”

 

“Yeah yeah caveman, I know: work. Like I need you to keep repeating it like a broken vinil” Jade rolled her dark eyes, smiling to Zayn “Turn around”

 

Louis smirked “Then stop acting like a bloody deaf”

 

They continued with this banter for more half an hour, once in a while shutting so Jade could ask Zayn about past situation and to calm down the pet, who grew agitated with the constant exchange of poorly masked, dripping with venom words. Louis felt both annoyed and impressed with her ability to go on and on, meeting him word for word, not backing down like most would after ten minutes or so. He also would not, even admit, but the damn woman made him learn quite a few things about Zayn.

 

Like how he didn’t eat pork and preferred coffee over tea. He liked red a lot, but wasn’t fond of yellow. Two of its past owners had been women, two men and one couple, but Zayn refused to say more about any of them. His parents were Pakistani, and he knew how to speak urdu, whatever that was.

 

By the end, Louis wasn’t completely displeased. Jade had maintained him busy, and time passed quickly.

 

“Well, Lou–is” Jade smiled with false innocence as she said his name with the wrong pronunciation “Zayn here is perfectly healthy but a small case of sensibility in his eyes. If he feels bothered, a drop of eye-drop is enough. He had some problem before of loss of weight, so make sure he doesn’t skip meals. I suggest you to read about panic attacks, just in case he has one, and also, as an Omega, once every three months he will be… Needy”

 

There it were. More problems “ _Needy_ how?”

 

“Like, needy in a way that will make you remember of animals heats” Louis felt his eyes widen. What. The. Fuck? “Hybrids don’t have a heat _heat,_ but they do feel especially overwhelmed with their feelings, and they seek for attention in more sexualized ways” Jade rushed in explaining.

 

“And now you’ll tell me I need to fuck it through this shit”

 

“… You can” she grimaced at his choice of words “There are meds to stop or alleviate the symptoms too”

 

Louis snorted; fuck Zayn in a time where it would beg for his cock or drug the pet?

 

Such a _difficult_ choice.

 

“No need for them– I can deal with Zayn on my own”

 

“I don’t feel exactly relieved”

 

“And you shouldn’t”

 

Zayn walked over to him, a pretty blush coloring not only its sharp cheeks, but its whole face and neck too. “… I–“

 

“Won’t worry” Louis affirmed, pinching a cheek teasingly “I’ve got this, and you’ll trust me”

 

Zayn answered to that minutes later, as they buckled their seatbelts, in Louis’ car and distant from the veterinary clinic.

 

“Yes” he whispered “I’ll try”

 

 

 

 

//


	5. I Don't Owe You Anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Hello~? Is someone out there?
> 
> To all my sweethearts, I'm so, so sorry I took so long in updating, it really wasn't my intention. The thing is: I was busy with my finals, and I spent my time studying, writing on breaks and so, maybe this chapter isn't good stuff. I apologise in advance for it.
> 
> My darlings are something else, so thank you for reviewing, kudos-ing, bookmarking and other possible -ings, yeah~?
> 
> I'll do my best to update faster...
> 
> My mistakes are my own, sorry for them.
> 
> (Inspired by Black Veil Brides' Coffin)

There was no sun anymore on the horizon by the time Louis and Zayn arrived home, both in deep silence since the consultation with Jade, more than forty minutes later. The former because he was thinking (Louis felt he was doing it too much in the past days and honestly, it made him exasperated, a man more of actions than words about what kind of talk he had to have with the latter, to resolve some of the concealed problems they were already having. Zayn wouldn’t open its mouth because it was a frustrating mix of shy with scared with submissive. 

 

Throwing his keys on top of the kitchen’s countertop, Louis crossed his arms, glancing at the pet, who sat quietly in the couch, playing with Louis’ jumper sleeves.

 

“Pet…” he started, only for his cell phone to ring “Shit. Stay right where you are”

 

Louis picked it from his pocket, rolling his eyes at the name flashing in the screen, together with a picture of a green eyed, curly haired, dimpled idiot, face smeared with Nutella and guilty expression.

 

_Harry Wanker_

 

So now the fucker called, days after dropping Zayn in his lap like the present he thought it would be, innocently leaving instead a time-bomb (oh, because Zayn was a dangerous creature; its undeniable aura of mystery and innocence that Louis couldn’t see yet as a façade guarding secrets he would eventually rip out of it) with numbers who jumped around, never the same and unpredictable. Louis wasn’t capable of saying when it would explode, or what type of explosion it would cause; if Zayn would barely make a disorder or if it would shred everything to shards.

 

“You better have something good to say to me, wanker” Louis answered.

 

“Christ Lou, what crawled up your arse and died?” Harry sounded only slightly surprised with the somewhat aggressive reply.

 

“The same thing that has been up to the hilt inside yours since the cursed day you were born”

 

The younger boy made a screech similar to a dying animal, clearly scandalized “Damn you, I came in peace”

 

“Serves you right after running away the moment you dropped Zayn on top of me” he snorted, speaking mockingly. He heard Harry sigh on the other side of the line.

 

“You’re giving the poor pet a difficult time”

 

This time, it was Louis who chuckled “I give everyone a hard time”

 

Another sigh “Tell me about it”

 

“Are you going to tell me why you called? Or your life is too dull without me in it?” the Doncaster man teased, knowing it pissed the Holmes-Chapel boy when he wanted to talk about something more serious, which normally was the case when Harry actually called and not texted. Rambling consisted in one of the most prominent characteristics of the younger, so he, on normal days, avoided it because of embarrassment and too many memories where people sneered at him, back in his Elementary School days, before his growth spurt and charming aura. A time of lanky members, too large extremities and awkward jokes (who persisted, to Louis’ dismay– they were that bad).

 

“I wouldn’t be anything without you, oh Louis, my master” the mocking tone wasn’t lost on Louis, whose eyes rolled “I’m calling to know about Zayn”

 

Yeah, right. As if Harry would bother “And I’m fucking Santa. Spit it out Styles: what do you want?”

 

A groan, louder and more exasperated than the last sigh “Geez, you’re too damn troublesome Tomlinson. A true sassy diva, like Liam once said– Remember? We were at that party in Paris and drunk out of our fucking minds and he…”

 

“I’m hanging up”

 

“Oe! Okay okay!” Harry quickly stopped his rambling, the deep sluggish drawl of his voice speeding up and lifting one or two octaves “I do want to know how Zayn’s getting along, but I called to inform that your house’s the one chosen to host us lad’s New Year”

 

Louis spluttered, not quite believing what the younger had said. On normal days he wouldn’t mind hosting the tradition their small group acquired on uni days; go to one of the lad’s house to drink and play bad games and talk shit about shit and drink some more until Liam or Harry got wasted and passed out on lad of choice’s couch. But this year wasn’t his year (he was sure it was Niall’s) and with Eleanor leaving in a week and Zayn’s presence, he didn’t have the patience, will or whatever.

 

Breathing deeply, he focused on his house to distract his mind from ways to kill Harry, gaze drifting unconsciously to where Zayn remained unmoving, sitting on the sofa and playing with its tail, ears high and turned to his direction.

 

Oh, so the pet was listening to his conversation. Unexpected, but not unwelcome.

 

At least it wasn’t stupid. 

 

“Zayn’s just fine and fuck you” Louis snarled to the phone, receiving a morbid kind of pleasure in imaging Harry’s wince on the other side. A few away, his pet’s eyes flicked towards him, golden gaze surprised with the mention of its name. It held the look for mere seconds before lowering it and returning to its seemingly boring tail play.

 

“But Louis…”

 

“Don’t wanna know. It’s not me time to host this damn thing, and host it I won’t!” he smacked the countertop hard, relishing in the soft distressed sound coming from Harry.

 

“… Niall can’t host it this year”

 

So he was right. It was fucking Niall’s turn “And why’s that? Did his pet destroy the hole he calls home or the neighbor’s pipe exploded _, again_?” 

 

The bloody curly-haired man actually chuckled; normally easy-going chuckle sounding strained “Something like the latter. He and his pet are crashing at Josh’s”

 

“Then give the damn thing in Josh’s house”

 

Louis could see the Harry’s pout at the suggestion “We don’t share the Lad’s New Year with anyone”

 

“Kick Josh out”

  

“Of his house?”

 

“No, out of Niall’s arse. Of course out of his house”

  

A pause “Do you think they’re shagging?”

 

“I don’t fucking care” patience wearing thin(ner), the oldest declared “Just don’t dare appear on my door, or you’re dead Styles”

 

“You love me too much to kill me” Harry chirped, tone changing to become happily smug “See you in New Years!”

 

“OE, Harry! Ha–” the line went dead “Bastard”

 

Hands prickling with the need to throw his fucking phone against a wall and hear the satisfying smashing sound, Louis felt like hunting the younger down; throttle the bloody giant, see as his face becomes red from exertion then purple-ish when there’s no more air to grasp and finally blue as…

 

Hold on a fucking second. Louis wasn’t a pacifist, save-the-whales type of bloke, but he definitely wasn’t some bat-shit crazy psychopath who killed friends after they annoyed the crap out of him. Nah, he wasn’t, as tempting as it was in moments like these, where Harry acted too much like himself, imposing his decisions to every willing and unwilling person who happened to cross his path.

 

The basic difference: Louis’ line of work involved imposing his (in the case, the company’s) opinion to investors, destined public, while Harry was solely obnoxious.

 

“Are you alright, Master Louis?” Zayn’s deep, velvety voice soothed a little of his murderous haze, the pet having moved during his lack of attention. It stood next him, disheveled jet black hair and searching eyes staring deep within his soul. “Your face is a bit red– Maybe Master is running a fever… Can I… Can I check?”

 

It lifted one hand, shaking the jumper’s sleeve off “No need, pet”

 

Louis held the outstretched hand, lowering it with more gentleness than he would ever admit. Zayn bit its bottom lip, hiding the unnecessary hand on its back “Right, Master”

 

“I’m not feverish” the Tomlinson sighed, noticing the pet’s dejected appearance. “I’m mad at the damn wanker– Harry” he explained, seeing the confusion crossing Zayn’s pretty features at the endearment… of sorts.

 

“Oh” light pink lips formed a cute ‘o’ shape. “I’m sorry for being so forward”

 

“Indeed, you were” Louis smirked, and the pet visibly flinched “And even disobeyed me by leaving the couch when I ordered for you to stay there”

 

Zayn’s whole complexion fell, and the corner of its eyes pooled with tears, lips trembling and hands fiddling madly with the jersey’s sleeves, a quirk of it when nervous, as Louis detected after the tenth time done. It dry wept, covering its mouth in a feeble attempt to cover the pitiful sound. What was supposed to be a light teasing suddenly was much more, and Louis watched in shock the drastic change in Zayn’s demeanor.

 

“Hey! Hey, calm down, I was kidding!” he tried to reassure the younger, moving onward to grab the skinny shoulders, bones sharp against his fingertips.

 

Wet eyes blinked several times, twin tears falling to the ground and attaching the thick eyelashes together. “K–Kidding?”

 

“Yeah pet, kidding. A provocation, joke, jest, call it whatever the fuck you want”

 

The tanned pet accepted his words, cleaning its face and sniffling softly. Aggravated and at the same time peeved with the extreme reaction (Unpredictable time bomb, remember? He, as always, was fucking right) Louis controlled his voice so it appeared collected and safe; safety admittedly being the thing Zayn needed the most “Let’s go to the couch; watch some game”

 

He guided Zayn back to the living room by holding tightly the pet’s hand, picking the TV’s remote and turning it on, bright lights mingling with different voices and taking over the ambient, a common place cacophony. He flopped on the couch, gesticulating for it to do the same, which it did, sitting straight and impossibly rigid, almost like a bodyguard, if bodyguards wore too big jumpers and had wet eyes, all packed in one lithe and small frame.

 

Louis snorted, using the scantily-clothed dark thighs as a pillow. Showing it was indeed possible, Zayn stiffened more, to the point of Louis feeling the dips of muscle on its legs, hard and uncomfortable for his head to rest on, serving more like a stone bench than a pillow “Damn pet, how do you expect me to chill out like this? You’re fit, great, but relax these legs, will’ya?”

 

Instantly Zayn’s legs became soft, and Louis couldn’t help but snuggle in them, satisfied with the change. They were warm and smelt of sandal and weirdly enough, rain, a somewhat melancholic type of smell, but not less pleasant. He focused blue eyes on the television, eyelids closing involuntarily as Zayn gently, feathery-like ran its fingers in his hair, taking it off of his face.

 

He dozed off.

 

They could always talk later. Zayn was his, after all.

 

 

 

**\-----------------------------**

 

 

 

“I… I–I… Wait, I… Realleh luv yah, Loueh” Harry threw his body at Louis, who expertly (considering he had five beers and was currently drinking his second glass of whiskey) dodged the attack, making the youngest of the group fall on the couch “Ouch”

 

He rubbed his brow, feeling what later would be a bitch of a hangover hovering above his head, a dull ache who promised pain and suffering and too many aspirin. One not as bad as Harry (who cuddled into himself on the couch, muttering about cotton-candy and bandanas, too fucking pissed to even think) or Niall (whistling a Christmas tune with an Irish folk completely out of rhythm) would deal with in a few hours, but bitchy nonetheless.

 

“We should stop drinking” a well past tipsy Liam remarked, turning his beer regretfully in his hand, but sipping at it after completing the thought.

 

“If it makes yah feel bettah with yah, sure Leeyum, we should indeed” Louis mocked, his own glass half full, whiskey gleaming in the living room’s lights. Golden amber, a reminiscent of a certain pet’s eyes and yet, not one percent as pretty and deep as Zayn’s, the color rich but cold and seductive, not honest and expressive; so easy to read that its silence didn’t make any difference when Louis had to interpret what it wanted. Oh, yes, Zayn’s eyes reminded him a lot of Eleanor’s, both clear of this world’s dirtiness, pieces of jewelry that…

 

That indicated he too had drank fucking beyond what he should, if the Harry like mental rambling was of any indication.

 

“Noooo, we’ve just started!” Niall whined, stopping (thank the seven bloody heavens) with the tone-deaf whistling as he rose his beer in salute “Long life to yer lads!” before gulping it down.

 

“I wanna salute too! Loueh, gimme your glass!” Harry’s muffled voice bid.

 

“Go fend one for you-self, fuckin’ drunkard”

 

“Language, Louis”

 

“Fuck you, Liam, yer not me mum”

 

Liam made that lost puppy face, brown (like coffee with cream; oh, coffee was a good idea, it helped his I-wanna-fucking-die hangovers, but with no cream, cream made it sweet and…) orbs big and round, pout in place and completely ridiculous with his short hair and big muscles typical of a firefighter “You’re so rude”

 

“And you’re such a lassie it’s depressing”

 

The younger man’s pout only got more prominent, and he turned to his beer to sulk alone.

 

Louis smirked, keeping count of his imaginary war of wits with the others, satisfied in seeing he was far past the three stupid animals he called friends. Liam in last place because the lad couldn’t hurt a bug even when he wanted to, Niall on front since he normally didn’t bother to bicker while he could eat or watch television or play guitar and Harry after, the total opposite with the constant babbling  and pranking and acting in a way a five year old wouldn’t.

 

“Oh yeah, where’s yer pet? Harreh told me yer got one now” Niall said, looking around to search for the mentioned pet, beer dangling dangerously from his hand, Irish accent thicker after each sip.

 

Sipping his whiskey, Louis pointed nonchalantly to the hallway “It’s on its room”

 

“Why not here?” Harry snapped out of his cotton candy land of cupcake spitting unicorns, lazily stretching and rising, going to the counter to fetch a drink. “Pets are funny, and Zayn’s a cutie”

 

“Their name is Zayn?” still sulking, Liam asked Harry, ignoring Louis and his mocking arched eyebrow at the relatively childish action coming from the twenty seven year old. “What kind of name is this? Male of female?”

 

Harry smiled; dimples carving holes in his flushed from alcohol cheeks “He’s male, a very cute and handsome… Wait, how can someone be cute and handsome at the same time? I mean, he got that face that would look great on a bit more of scruff and a leather jacket, birds would beg to be shagged by him- yet, just looking at him with sweaters and those huge caramel eyes…” he chatted dreamily, holding the counter to maintain the balance as he searched for a glass. He had a tendency to babble even more (if that was fucking possible) when drunk.

 

This earned him a roll of eyes “That boring little shit? No fucking way” Louis inquired, ignoring the image that popped up in his mind; that morning Zayn had appeared wearing one of his new jumpers (dark green, fitting snugly against his lean body, different from most Louis had bought) and shorts, cheeks and chin full of a two day without shaving shadow, hair messy and tail sensually undulating. It still acted the same, shy and mysterious, cutely wiping his sleepy eyes with the back of his hand and quietly walking around with a glass of honeyed tea.

 

Fucking handsome and cute, like Harry said.

 

He didn’t, completely _didn’t_ think this.

 

Pissed out of his fucking mind, as said before. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have this strange, fucked up thoughts– that is, if he had though this, which he didn’t.

 

“Meanie” whined Niall “Pets must be loved and cherished and caressed and- and… Dunno”

 

“That’s because you don’t know how to treat your own. So shut up ‘bout mine” growled Louis, aggravated with those people and their everlasting interest in discussing Zayn. The pet was his and he knew enough regarding its necessities and whatsoever, and he dispensed any kind of half-arsed advices coming from people who could barely live by themselves; Liam needing Sophia to breathe, Niall depending on his fucking pet to eat and Harry leaning on him and Josh, Nick or whatever was his hook up for the week, the man-slut.

 

It wasn’t his fault that he forgot to give Zayn warmer clothes when they went out just the other day, or that he wasn’t really careful with the way he treated it; fucking come on, its presence was all about being comfortable and relaxing when Eleanor (the name tasted bittersweet in his tongue, his love for her mingling with the ugly resentment he felt for her and her goddamn job) departed, the fateful date two days away. Instead, with Zayn as a pet, he had to walk on eggshells, never knowing what kind of reaction it would have before his actions and words and having to be the target of criticism from the veterinarian to his friends.

 

Argh, thinking so much while drunk gave headaches, the type that made know what those old-school characters whose heads were hit by falling pianos felt. Duly fucking noted.

 

“Hiya! Louis mate, yer do know how to pick ’em!” Niall’s exclamation cut his thinking, and Louis turned to see what the flying fuck the lad was talking about.

 

He met a blushing Zayn being dragged to the by one very smiley (read, pissed as fuck) Liam, ignoring Harry’s outraged “I have good taste! I chose him!” and towards the living room, where Niall not very smoothly racked his eyes through every centimetre of the pet’s body. It still wore the shadow, more like a beard already, on its face, but the tight jumper had been replaced by a fluffy, big white one, the thing swallowing Zayn inside wool. Its hair was in disarray, and it looked like it had just woken.

 

“There you go!” Liam happily stated, sitting on the couch and pushing the pet together, it half falling on the firefighter’s lap “Pet found” he caressed its hair, making it messier.

 

Golden eyes searched for him pleadingly, sleepy confusion etched deep on fine features, calling in a rough, accented voice “Master Louis?”

 

Simultaneously the other three lads cooed, Harry stumbling his way to Zayn, sitting on its side, squeezing it between him and Liam, even though he had more than enough space to sit comfortably without touching what belonged to Louis “You all right Zaynie?”

 

Zayn nodded, still focused on Louis. He’d rather be tortured by Harry’s horrible jokes for hours than admit, but seeing how the pet demonstrated interest on him only was something that made Louis strangely pleased. An attention whore, like some, Eleanor included, called him and yes, they were right. The Doncaster man loved attention, especially when directed solely to him, and this pet, past its doubtable personality and quirks, nurtured his ego quite well, never seeming to stray from him.

 

Because of this, he decided to cut the pet some slack, relaxing shoulders he didn’t notice he had tensed, shaking them in a do-whatever-you-want way. Zayn immediately relaxed too, facing a babbling Harry hesitatingly.

 

“Oe, yer won’t present me and Leeyum?”

 

Liam smirked, showing how drunk he really was. He wasn’t a smirking type, puppy faced as he was “I already presented meself”

 

“What ‘bout me?”

 

“Yer not important Niall” Harry didn’t spare the older a look “As I was saying before being rudely interrupted–”

 

“Fuckers”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... I'm so sorry for my horrible representation of accents... I swear it's only for this chapter...


	6. Crash, Crash, Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... *appears from behind a rock* ... H-Hm... Hello? Is there anyone out here?
> 
> I really don't know what to say, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I spent so long without updating or answering to your lovely reviews. I'm really sorry and despite having my reasons, I shouldn't have simply left this unattended for so long.  
> I can't promise I'll update with frequency, but this Zouis fanfiction WILL NOT be abandoned. Even if it takes me 10 years, I will finish it!
> 
> Another thing... THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SEXUAL CONTENT, so read it under your conscience. Nothing too much, but there's... things.
> 
> And as my first time anything remotely explicit, please, once more, forgive me for whatever was the result...
> 
> *This chapter is dedicated to all of you, specially fuckboylouis who kept reviewing, asking for me to continue. They guilt tripped me into writing the first half of this chapter*

Louis officially, absolutely, hated the sun. Being winter and living in London, the guarantee of cloudy, snowy days covered with grey light was somehow certain. However, because of some fucking universe fail, the first day of the year was rather sunny, soft yellow rays peeking through the window and curtains, doing the favor of landing straight on the CFO’s face. His head throbbed with a bloody awful headache, and he felt like dying, the simple act of opening his eyes a probation.

 

Eventually he had to do it, wanting or not, the sun on his face added with the pain inside his head and combined with the promising smell of eggs and bacon a sufficient temptation to make him get up. It was a bad idea, since his back cracked painfully, a night on the couch enough to move his muscles to all wrong places, shoulders stiff and knots everywhere, the pain intensifying as white spots shone on his sight, vision blurring.

 

He must have waited five minutes before the world could stop spinning, rubbing his aching eyes and blinking slowly, getting accustomed to the soft light. On the floor by his feet Niall snored lightly, limbs splayed in a position that would make him regret ever falling asleep after drinking in his life; Harry similarly sprawled on the big armchair, long legs on one arm and head on the other, hand limply hanging, a glass still being partially held.

 

There was no sign of Liam or Zayn.

 

Getting up was easier said than done, and it took Louis another minute to gather the will to do so; once standing, his back cracked some more, together with his shoulders and neck, and he had to he tiptoe around Niall, careful to not step on the younger man (he kinda deserved, the bastard, but it was too early, and Louis’ mind still wasn’t on full fuck-you mode), dragging himself on the kitchen’s direction. The closer he got, the stronger the smell was, and twenty-three steps later, he was greeted with quite a stomach-churning, sickening sight.

 

A fluffy looking Zayn trying to grab a mug from a high shelf, the white jumper riding up its thighs to show a small peak of its boxers-covered bum, tail high and helping in expose its backside; like a fucking chick flick, Liam appeared behind the pet, stretching his arm to pick whatever the fuck Zayn wanted, ruffling the smaller lad’s black hair, muttering something that made it snort softly, blush darkening the tanned face.

 

He hated it. Absolutely _hated_ the cozy, familiar exchange when they had met for less than a day; the twisting on his guts worsened to the point of making him momentarily sick, and Louis blamed the alcohol he had consumed as he ran towards the social bathroom, falling to his knees and retching all he ate after 6 p.m. of the previous day, food and alcohol alike. At some time a cool hand held his forehead, keeping his hair away and helping with the feverish feeling his body was starting to get.

 

It seemed hours, but when he finished, Louis looked up with blurry eyes. He distinguished two figures, the closest to him dark skinned and tense, head covering the bathroom’s lights, spilling around it like a halo. “… Master Louis? Master, are you alright?” it asked, worry permeating each syllable, golden orbs bright and blown wide; a cornered prey.

 

He didn’t make motion to take its hand off of his face, instead leaning into it, glad with its temperature and its effect on the blasting headache on his skull, half closing his irritated eyes “Do I look bloody okay? My head is fucking killing me.” he groaned, frowning at the foul taste on his mouth.

 

“Liam?” Zayn called, and even though Louis couldn’t see his friend well, he heard the ‘yeah?’ quite clearly “I– Don’t know where the meds are … Could you please pick– Master Louis, you prefer Tylenol or maybe some Advil? “

 

“Advil works better for Lou, I’ll get it for him.” for someone who was as drunk as him a few hours ago, the firefighter surely sounded way too chirpy for Louis to be minimally happy with the prospect of relief.

 

Hearing Liam’s steps as he distanced himself, the CFO took Zayn’s hand out of his forehead, grip tight “I’ll stand.”

 

No word in the lines of ‘help’ or ‘aid’ were pronounced, but Zayn seemed to understand, gripping the hand back just as tightly, rising abruptly so its weight served to push Louis up, the older male unsteady once on his two feet, using his free hand to hold onto the pet’s shoulder. At the same time he felt an arm sneaking around his waist, keeping him upright. His head spun and white dots sparkled on his vision, the world a blur of too bright colors.

 

Zayn didn’t speak again, opting to silently lead Louis on; he stopped in the middle of the hallway “Would master prefer the kitchen or maybe the bedro–“

 

“The kitchen’s fine.”

 

Nodding, the pet continued to guide his master, Louis sensing its distress rolling out of its body in waves, carved on pretty features like they’ve always been there; the tight line on dark eyebrows, white sharp teeth worrying plush bottom lip, the supple flesh threatening to tear at the slightest addition of might. The kitchen was more illuminated than the bathroom and hallway, and his head throbbed painfully.

 

He would never, ever fucking drink this much again. Louis wasn’t that much of an alcohol fan anyways.

 

… Yeah, that sounded so bloody fake it felt ridiculous to think.

 

Liam was just on his way, pills on one hand and a glass of water on the other, both of which Louis gladly inhaled, seeking for some damn relief “Well, next time I say we should stop, we stop,” was that a smug tone on Liam’s voice?

 

Fucking bastard “As if,” Louis scoffed, disentangling himself from Zayn’s hold, pushing a stool to sit by the kitchen countertop. There, the smell of bacon was almost overwhelming, and his stomach made this clear, rumbling loudly as it reached his nose. Zayn hurried to prepare him a plate, putting bacon, eggs and toast, as well as pouring him a cup of coffee. It smiled softly to Louis, its ears high on top of its head, an expression of someone ready to please.

 

It was a mystery, Louis would give it this; silent like a kitten, eager like a puppy, gracious like a kitten, willing like a puppy. This was irritating, this play of puppy and kitten, divergences in attitude that hindered his ability to see which Zayn was the real one; the puppy or the kitten (physically he was the latter, but when it came to decide his personality… so bloody troublesome) or an even different creature. As someone who convinced people in both investing and  buying his company’s products for living, Louis was accustomed in reading people quickly; a look on their clothes, the way they spoke and he knew exactly what to say, if he needed to charm his way into their pockets or play difficult. Yet, when it came to this tiny (he _was_ smaller than Louis; one inch was still one inch) catboy, he couldn’t guess right.

 

“Zayn, I think these are ready,” Liam appeared behind Zayn, a light frown on his face. “I don’t know what to do”

 

Zayn smirked, to Louis surprise, turning to the firefighter; the softness of its face disappearing as it passed through Liam, calmly grabbing the frying pan to drop one giant pancake on top of a plate already full of them. “There Leeyum. Too hard?” Zayn cheekily said, its golden eyes twinkling with amusement at the pout Liam made, his cheeks puffing ridiculously (Louis admitted to his own self that Liam was a very fit lad– without smiling, with furrowed brows and crossed arms. Otherwise, he was just an oversized puppy) before breaking into a smile, hand affectionately petting Zayn’s mop of black hair. The pet purred loudly when Liam’s hand brushed its’ ears.

 

“I see you’re gettin’ cozy there. Sophia will love to know you got yourself a pet _Leeyum–_ Practice for when you knock her up” the mocking tone Louis was so proud of sounded scratchy at best, thanks to his blasting headache and sore throat from spitting his guts out, Zayn’s heavy accented version of Liam’s name rolling off of his tongue easily with sarcasm.

 

And it got the effect desired: Liam blushed a few shades of red while Zayn jumped away from him, ears flat on its’ head, hands tugging guiltily the white jumper, mimicking its’ teeth, which bit its’ already pink bottom lip. “W-W-What–”

 

“Master Louis –” Zayn started, interrupting Liam’s stuttering, only for Louis to interrupt him too.

 

“I don’t care,” he said, smirking at the clear discomfort of his pet’s posture, finally getting a taste of his coffee. Tasted a tad too bitter “Come here, Zayn.”

 

The pet all but scrabbled to reach Louis’ side, eyeing him with utterly devotion from under thick, dark lashes; golden orbs fixed on him.

 

Louis raised one hand, touching lightly Zayn’s sharp cheek, feeling the coarse hair of its’ beard against the pad of his fingers; a tightening on his chest told him of the possessive sensation he felt at seeing someone, something that belonged to _him_ get all comfortable around others when it wouldn’t do the same to him. It didn’t matter that Zayn gave him all those devoted looks, it still cowered at the mere sign of Louis’ admittedly difficult temper. Yet, the pet was so breathtakingly beautiful on its’ submission.

 

It made Louis want to show _everyone_ whom Zayn belonged to “Kneel.”

 

Zayn blinked at him once before obediently kneeling at his feet, Liam’s gobsmacked face following the movement. A deep satisfaction settled on Louis’ stomach, and he smiled (actually smiled, not smirked, and he would deny it to his dead), caressing Zayn’s head, letting the pet nuzzle onto the material of his pants, the purr coming from its chest louder than it was with Liam. Turning to his food, Louis took a bite, glad in seeing his pet could cook (even if the bacon was slightly burned on the edges) decently; he survived on take-out, Harry’s and Eleanor’s food.

 

“Good boy” Louis conceded, smile morphing to form a wide grin at the way Zayn positively preened at the compliment, shoving its face further into Louis’ pants, the tip of its long black tail swinging lazily in contentment.

 

Liam gaped like a fish out of water, the twat.

 

Served him right.

 

 

\----------------------------------

 

 

 

On the 3rd, Eleanor left.

 

Louis picked her up at noon, sky once again dark and cloudy, snow falling heavily on the streets, painting the buildings and asphalt white. She had with her two large bags, and Louis frowned at seeing them, cursing not for the first or tenth time her and her professors and those damned people she was leaving him for. He supposed he should be fine with the entire situation, having dealt with it during most of his relationship with her, but no, he wasn’t fucking fine. No one ever wanted to see their beloved leaving, and Louis wasn’t a bloody exception, despite the façade he so artfully pulled with cynicism and jokes.

 

She, like always, looked beautiful, and it pained Louis to let her go; he held her hand her hand through all the way to the airport, shutting up and letting her talk, guarding her voice deep inside himself, her honestly fucking horrible laugh and the soft of her skin, manicured hands caressing the calloused (of years working in all kinds of jobs to pay for university, from spending nights awake scribbling projects and writing long reports) he himself had. He stole a kiss every closed signal, tasting her apple-flavored lip gloss.

 

The moment they arrived at the airport, Louis parked and sighed, tightening his hold on the steering wheel.

 

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Eleanor inclining on his direction, concern etched into every line of her pretty face “Lou–…”

 

“I should be accustomed to let you go, I know” he laughed, embarrassingly self-depreciating, “Guess what? I’m bloody not”

 

“It’s hard for me too,” Eleanor tried to push his face to stare at her, but he resisted, hair falling on his face in the process. “But it’s my job, and I love it”

 

“More than you love me?”

 

Eleanor released his face, features hardening; Louis knew he had touched a sensible subject none of them wanted to discuss, not at that moment, nor ever, if depended on the woman “You can’t ask me this; we’ve talked before about making me choose.”

 

Sighing again, Louis lifted his head, seeing the gleam of determination on his girlfriend’s eyes, the one she got every time they had this same fight, damned her. As unfair it was for him to have to let her go over and over, he also wouldn’t force her to make a decision between her work and him, for fear of the choice or for, deep down, understanding her. If she asked him to change job because it required him to have some crazy schedules when a new product (or an old product with a shiny new package) was about to go to the market, then yeah, he kinda understood. He’d fought tooth and nail to get where he was today, and no one (not even the love of his fucking life) would make him give up.

 

To show her he’d got the message, he pushed his hair out of his face, smiling slightly at her. Moving forward, he kissed the tip of her nose “Let’s not fight El. I get it, it’s just… Hard.”

 

She nodded, cupping his face, pushing him closer to press her lips to his, the apple lip gloss almost gone from all the times he’d kissed her. He preferred this way, how he could taste _her_ better without the sticky make-up. Enveloping her smaller frame, he brought her to himself, perfectly satisfied when she, annoyed with the awkward position, straddled his legs, settling on top of his lap. Eleanor kissed him deeply, forcing his mouth open with her tongue, her nails scratched his nape, boobs on the verge of spilling from her blouse as she glued herself to him, wiggling her hips.

 

Oh, he was not the type to waste such opportunities when (quite literally) they fell on his lap.

 

Hands on her hips, helping his dear girl to set a rhythm, Louis rocked his own hips, pushing them up at the same time he grinded her down, her heat creating the so desired, passionate friction with the hardening of his dick, painful inside the confines of his jeans the more they fell into a familiar grinding. She moaned, pretty little whimpers he gladly swallowed,  proud and honest to God, quite smug with the fact they could go from having a tender (and tense) moment in one minute, to snogging sloppily on his car, in the middle of a parking lot where anyone could see, not that he cared (attention-whore, remember? An exhibitionism kink was more than natural). Eleanor never complained anyways, just as glad as him to get off before leaving (see? Another reason for her not to go) and suffer a severe case of blue balls for months, or the equivalent to blue balls for girls.

 

Phone sex was great, yeah, it was. One of Louis’ specialty was dirty talking, and he knew Eleanor packed some of their toys to play with while away (he had toys too, but now, with a very alive, very fit and very willing pet waiting for him at home, he doubted he would have a use for them… on himself) which for the most part, she showed him with snapchats and fucking too-small videos on bloody inappropriate times. She’d get off on his voice latter, he’d get off on getting her off and they’d be happy for the day.

 

But nothing could compare to the physical, flesh on flesh thing, Louis thought as he popped the buttons of her jeans, pulling the zipper next so her nice, pink cotton knickers were visible to his appreciative eyes. “You wet for me sweetheart?” teasing, he smirked, playing with the small bow on the center of her underwear.

 

Reproachful, she bit his bottom lip, face flushed, yet did nothing to stop his wandering hand “N-Not the right moment to sweet talk me,” she said, faltering lightly when his fingers found her core, wet, _so wet for him_ “We have, _ah,_ ten minutes”

 

“I can work with that” he batted his eyelashes at her with mocking sweetness, entering her body with one finger, feeling her walls contracting around him, her hips lowering and undulating, losing rhythm after the sudden intrusion. Louis’ free hand moved to open his own pants, eager to relieve some of the pressure on his aching cock.

 

A loud hammering on the window startled them both Eleanor letting out an undignified squeaking sound, Louis grumbling heavy obscenities before seeking for the reason behind the noise. His urge to growl like a fucking animal intensified as his eyes met one of those fucking stereotypical guards, fat and greasy and glaring at them, probably envious of Louis, who had a beautiful young girl on his lap, more than the bastard wearing a ridiculous uniform could begin to dream.

 

Eleanor buried her face on his neck, her cheeks hot in shame pressing on his skin, hot from their activities “ _Lou,”_ she moaned, tone begging him to do something.

 

Putting the fakest smile he managed, while hard and with the reason for his hardness on top of him (and cursing the sodding, bloody fucker of a guard to his tenth generation) Louis opened the window.

 

His case of blue balls started earlier, apparently.

 

 

\------------------------------------

 

 

He arrived home wanting nothing more than a kip with Eleanor cuddled by his side, the two bodies mingled together beneath piles of covers, exchanging lazy kisses and soft conversation; Louis permitted himself to be vulnerable, on his dark room, bare for his love and away from a world too harsh for the weak. Not an hour after her departure, Louis already missed Eleanor, and pondered the decision of inviting her to live with him once she came back. He’d even propose her (he never tried, aware of the big, fat ‘no’ he’d receive if he asked; the damn woman liked her independence a bit too much) in hopes she would accept tying the knot for real. They weren’t getting any younger, and four, almost five years into their relationship, Louis guessed they were ready for the big step.

 

Instead, Louis arrived home to an apartment mostly silent, not considering the low voices coming from the telly. There was no Eleanor there, wearing only shorts and a tank top, hair up on a ponytail, but a Zayn on his couch, arms wrapped around its legs, the green sweater from a few days ago hugging its torso, head on top of his knees, black hair down, covering its forehead and an eye. The pet noticed his presence soon enough, and smiled with lips closed. Louis must have had a pretty bad scowl on his face, since the pet’s smile dropped to give place to a worried frown; it went towards him.

 

“Master Louis?” it asked. “Are you alright? Something happened?”

 

A tired breath escaped him, without permission “It’s nothing, pet.”

 

It bit its lip “… Are you certain? Master seem–”

 

“I fucking said it’s nothing!” Louis snapped “It’s fucking nothing, okay? Eleanor left again and I can’t fucking do anything, ‘cause the bloody woman _loves her fucking job_! Apparently more than she loves me, not that she…” he let the words die on his mouth, not understanding why he was saying this to the pet. It looked at him for seemingly a long time, those golden eyes in deep thought.

 

Zayn, on a bold move not typical of it, reached for Louis’ hand “Please come here, Master.”

 

The pet guided him back to the couch (Louis didn’t try to do anything, curious with what it could possibly be planning), holding his hand with a trembling one. They stood close to each other for one second in which Zayn appeared to control its breathing, before lightly, very gently pushing Louis to take a seat. His curiosity spiked to another levels, and he stared at the pet above him, silently daring him to continue with whatever it was doing.

 

Zayn dropped to its knees, tan hands spreading Louis’ legs to settle in between them.

 

A vein popped on Louis’ forehead, and he felt faint with the lack of circulation; his blood seemed very pleased on concentrating in his lower regions. His prick twitched in interest. “What are you doing, pet?”

 

Zayn’s eyelashes fluttered, face darkening “Master looks like he needs some… distraction,” its hands opened his zipper. “I can provide you some, if Master wants, of course.”

 

Louis was a lot of things; he was a bastard, an attention-whore, a hyperactive and a man of both words and actions.

 

But if there was a thing Louis wasn’t, was stupid.

 

Looking down at the pet, encountering jewel-like eyes, framed by long and dark lashes, waiting for him to say something with calm expectation, bottom lip firmly sucked into its mouth, its hands resting on Louis’ thighs, the last thing that passed through his mind was denying this… this beautiful, willing boy who had done nothing but try to please Louis. So, so unbelievably beautiful, and all **his**. Someone who wouldn’t ever leave him.

 

Inclining so they were somewhat on the same level, Louis pushed Zayn’s hair out of _his_ face, the boy’s skin hot at contact. _His_ ears flattened, and _he_ released _his_ red bottom lip with a trembling exhale, hands clenching Louis’ jeans-cladded legs, a full body shiver making Zayn get closer to Louis, tail high and stiff.

 

Louis groaned lowly; he’d just touched the pet’s hair, and he already looked thoroughly fucked out. Oh, if that didn’t make his cock quite interested, fattening on the confines of his pants. “Let’s see how you use this pretty mouth, pet.”

 

The mentioned pet whined, pushing Louis’ pants and boxers down to expose his cock, hard and red against his stomach. Zayn gazed at it, licking his lips (and fuck, that was hot) as if contemplating a candy. Without preambles, he surged forward and engulfed half of Louis’ length, lapping at his tip with a wet tongue; Louis threw his head back with a loud curse (he was very distracted, thank you), the heat around his cock too good and too sudden for another reaction. He grabbed Zayn’s hair, soft in between his fingers, and Zayn took another inch, lips thinning to hollow his cheeks, eyes shining with unshed tears. He slowly bobbed his head, still looking so shy despite having his lips stretched around a dick.

 

God, what was this pet? Louis experimentally moved his hips up, fucking into Zayn’s mouth; he swallowed awkwardly around him, but didn’t gag. The rhythm Zayn tried to set was broken, and he looked up with fluttering eyelashes, questioning. He didn’t feel sorry, but Louis let the pet continue with his initial ministrations, smirking and taking his hand off the pet’s hair, showing him he wasn’t going to do anything; he even settled better on the couch.

 

This time around, Zayn wasn’t slow. He, in an incredible demonstration of lack of gag reflex, took Louis’ cock to the root, his nose brushing the pubes on his navel, sucking enthusiastically and making these keening, whimpering noises with each bob of his head. Louis groaned; the tension building inside him with the pleasure of wet, tight heat around him “Such a good boy for me, Zayn,” Louis panted. He wouldn’t last much longer.

 

Zayn’s eyes closed, and he whimpered louder. “Will you let me come on you face, pet? Get your pretty face all dirty?”

 

With a nod, Zayn released Louis’ cock with an obscene slurping noise. He licked the thick vein on its side, one hand wrapping around it to tug it half a dozen times.

 

Louis came with a muffled noise. He struggled to keep his eyes open, to see the way his cum dirtied Zayn’s flushed face, it landing on his sharp cheekbones, on his abused lips and clinging to his lashes. The pet received it all, immobile on the floor, all wet-eyed and panting.

 

So fucking beautiful. His pet was so fucking beautiful.

 

Zayn smiled, tongue darting to lick at some of Louis’s cum off his chin.

 

Riding on the aftershocks of his orgasm, Louis caressed the pet’s face, collecting the cum with his fingers to feed it to Zayn; he lapped eagerly at it, suddenly silent except for the sucking. When finished, Louis fell back, breathing heavily and thoughtfully satisfied. Closing his eyes for a moment, he heard the shuffling of Zayn getting on his feet; the pet had served him well, and probably wanted (and being fair, deserved) to get off too.

 

Instead, Louis met a Zayn obviously hiding his clear erection behind his palms “I should… I’ll go now,” he dashed from the room, quickly entering his bedroom.

 

Louis stayed on the couch, panting and asking himself what the fucking hell was all of that about.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo... How was it? 
> 
> A little, normal, very or extremely bad?
> 
> At least now Louis won't call our Zayn 'it' anymore, yeah? That's good, right~? Progress!
> 
>  
> 
> (... I'm so sorry...)
> 
>  
> 
> *hides in shame*


	7. In Your Cage (You're Your Own Slave)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So beloveds... New, despite small chapter.
> 
> This one is a little different from the previous, for it is told on Zayn's perspective, so I hope everyone enjoy this ^^
> 
> And of course, thank you all who reviewed, bookmarked and kudos-ed. I love every single one of you, and it all mean a lot to me that you continue to follow this despite everything~
> 
> My mistakes are my own, please feel free to point them out to me.
> 
> (title based on Cinema Bizarre's In Your Cage.)

Zayn washed his face, wincing at how cold the water felt on his heated skin. He still was slightly aroused after what had happened on the living room just moments before, the soft material of his trackies uncomfortably rubbing on his erection; he thought of getting rid of it by wanking, but he didn’t know if he was allowed to pleasure himself without the explicit permission of Master Louis. On his first day on this house, Master had said explicitly that he could only shower and do his business without asking and later, he was allowed to eat with him away; the things he could do ended there, and Zayn, after everything, wouldn’t dare to defy his orders.

 

The only thing Zayn wanted was for Master Louis to keep him, end once for all his constant wandering, make him his for as long as he lived and not exchange or abandon him like the others. The fire that burned on him long ago was extinguished, and his heart’s desire could be resumed very simply on achieving peace, live tranquilly with a master that loved him. On the week Zayn had lived with his master, he concluded that asking for love from someone like Louis Tomlinson was asking for too much, but he had contented with less; Master Louis tolerated him and exhibited a behavior typical of exhibitionists, spoiling him with clothes that showed his power to others, but otherwise ignoring Zayn, and the hybrid couldn’t demand more.

 

He was grateful for Harry Styles (with long curls and dimples and the smell of stardust and morning dew clinging to his floral shirts) for buying him, taking him away from that shelter for abandoned pets, but this feeling couldn’t compare with the devotion Zayn felt for Master Louis; Master Louis who accepted him inside his house, dressed and fed him, acted gentle on the most unexpected moments and was able to make Zayn aroused just by letting the pet suck his cock. Zayn felt embarrassed, no knowing what to do next; he decided to take a shower (a little against his will, for his cat characteristics made him aware and slightly appalled at the notion of getting wet) to take the edge off.

 

The ache on his groin persisted, and with a pained whimper, he stripped down, entering the ice cold spray of water, immediately regretting all of his life decisions; at least his cock seemed to think the same, softening as the water fell on him. Master Louis never bought anything specific for him to use on the bathroom, so Zayn used his things, doing his absolute best to not use too much. His hair (once his pride, his 3rd owner’s pride) wasn’t exactly responding well to it, but Zayn didn’t plan to complain. Not now, nor ever.

 

Zayn eventually warmed the water, sighing in relief when his freezing skin entered in contact with the warm droplets. Master Louis’ soap smelled expensive, some mixture of fancy ingredients that blended marvelously with the natural muskiness of the man, a metallic scent (it reminded Zayn of sharp bourbon, spicy chocolate and intimidation) that complement the man’s image of calculated coolness, seductive danger…

 

“Bad kitty ran away from master,” a voice purred on his ear, and Zayn jumped in fright, caught unprepared. He looked at the door, open, and clothes that weren’t his were on the floor; turning he saw Master Louis smirking, his handsome face open with amusement and another emotion Zayn didn’t try to guess, clearly enraptured with the eyes of his master, sky blue like the calm before a storm. So deep on his mind, the hybrid had failed to both hear him approaching or undressing.

 

Fear coursed through his veins. Bad kitty? Had he done something wrong? Wasn’t Master satisfied with his services? “M-Master Louis?” he stuttered, cursing internally his failure as a pet and as an articulate person.

 

Rough hands enveloped his waist, fingers gripping tight his hipbones. A solid body glued to his back, and Zayn shuddered when he felt something hard and hot against his bum. “I didn’t say we were over, did I?”

 

Master Louis bit his neck, a way to emphasize his words. “No, Master didn’t,” Zayn answered in shame, mentally chastising himself for acting so stupid, not waiting for an order and for his inability to read master’s desires well. His body started to react as Master Louis’ hands caressed his sides, fingers digging on his skin, lips never leaving his neck, tiny little shivers running through his spine every time Master bit harder, licking the sore spot right after. The soothing action was what made Zayn feel like jelly under his master’s ministrations, unaccustomed (and maybe bloody surprised) with such gentleness coming from him. Master had his moments of brief tenderness, and Zayn was never ready for them.

 

“Hmm, and I thought you were such a good boy for me,” Master Louis hummed behind him, lightly squeezing Zayn’s half-hard cock.

 

“Ah, I am, I am,” he whimpered, instinctively rolling his hips, rubbing his arse on Master Louis’ cock. “Good boy, I am a good boy.”

 

Zayn moaned loudly as the older man spun him around, their chests pressing close, erections gliding together, making the friction pleasurable in a way Zayn knew his hand would never be capable of. Master Louis’ eyes were dark in lust, black swallowing the icy blue of his irises, the sound of water falling on his back muffled by his ears, too lost in the sensations, on master.

 

“I ain’t convinced. You suck me like a fucking vacuum and then leave me alone to wank by yourself,” Master Louis seemed to think his next words. “You don’t think I can satisfy you? Give _my_ pet pleasure?”

 

“No, no, no, Master!” in panic Zayn tried to do right, correct his wrongs. He sensed his cock flagging, as he wanted to cry, kneel and say that this was never his intention. He couldn’t go back to the shelter, be thrown away after committing a mistake so stupid; master wouldn’t do that, would he? “I… I thought master wouldn’t want me there after what I did. I never touched myself, I promise you master, I never would without permission!”

 

“Wouldn’t you really?” Master Louis’ questioning continued, one hand twisting Zayn’s right nipple, the other descending slowly, tracing the small patch of hair on Zayn’s navel, lower and lower until his thump slid across the slit of his cock, pressing down lightly.

 

“ _Yes_ , Master,” his hands that were limp by his sides carefully rise to touch Master Louis’ forearms, feeling the solid muscle there contract unconsciously. He was breathless, short puffs of air escaping his mouth and mixing with the fog the water falling around them (he had forgotten about it, consumed by everything that was the older man, his presence so intense the world seemed to diminish to focus only on him) wetting master and making him overwhelmed with so much wonder. Oh, how he desired (craved) for Master Louis’ attention.

 

“Should I believe you?”

 

“Please Master, I swear to you, please,” Zayn was not above begging.

 

He wasn’t above anything. On the contrary, he was the lowest of the low, without the right to expect or demand anything.

 

“Okay pet,” Master Louis conceded, and Zayn bit his lower lip, supressing a relieved smile. “I will let this one pass– _If_ you help me out here,” he pointed to both of their cocks in between them, smirk never faltering.

 

On ecstasy for having been granted another chance, Zayn nodded, a little smile stretching his lips. He went for the soap behind master, squeezing a small quantity on his palm to help with he was about to do, all under the blue stare of Master Louis, burning his skin like fire, it tingling because of the attention, lustful and unwavering. Master observed as he coated both their cocks with the soap after receiving a nodded confirmation that yes, he could touch himself too.

 

Master had preferred a fast pace when Zayn was sucking him off, and apparently the same could be said about wanking; he dropped his head on Zayn’s neck when he started tugging their cocks from root to tip, hand slick and quick. He went back to nipping Zayn’s shoulder, groaning lowly every time Zayn pressed his thumb on the vein on the underside of his cock, fingers digging deeply into the skin of Zayn’s bony hips, just beneath the tattooed black heart, a courtesy from his first master. He himself favoured a slower speed, for he liked to prolong his pleasure for as long as he could, to the point of only cumming when pleasure began to transform into pain. A masochist feature he had learned to enjoy for his own sake, acquired in his time with his fourth owner. But if Master Louis liked fast, Zayn would deliver fast.

 

He keened when master enveloped his hand (burning hot, rough, teasing like the teeth on his shoulder) on both of their cocks, helping him, a bead of precum erupting from his shaft just because _master was touching him_. After that, Zayn couldn’t think of anything but the friction caused by the slide of their cocks, the edge of teeth descending to his chest, dangerously close to his still slightly swollen tattoo wings (sharp and beautiful, a lot like Master Louis) and the building of his orgasm. The hand grabbing master’s arm tightens its hold, his eyes closing and a loud moan escaping his mouth. The pressure on his belly grew and grew and grew…

 

“Come for me, pet,” Master Louis whispered, lifting his face to stare directly into his eyes with his own, piercing, sky blue swallowed by black. With a twist of his wrist, Zayn came, biting his bottom lip so hard he tasted blood, eyes rolling to the back of his head as a scorching pleasure seemed to fry all his nerves, making his legs weak and his whole body shake. His hands scrabbled to hold onto his master, suddenly not able to hold himself upright; Master Louis wrapped a firm arm around his waist to keep him steady, and through a hazy vision that Zayn saw master’s dirty fingers, stroking furiously his still erect cock. Leaning forward on a bold move (one that wouldn’t dare to do if not sub effect of his tingling orgasm), Zayn caught the lobe of master’s left ear in between his teeth, nibbling the malleable skin there, a pleasured purr rumbling on his throat.

 

Master emitted one last moan before spilling on his hand and both of their tummies, his cum mixing with Zayn’s (through his stupor eh thought the view entrancing, master and him united by something).

 

“Bloody hell pet, that was intense.” Master said with a smirk, moving his soiled hand to the stream of water that fell on their right shoulder all that time. The proof of their activities vanished with it.

 

The sight disappointed a part of Zayn. “Thank you for giving me pleasure, master.”

 

Master Louis nodded absentmindedly, looking at one point over Zayn’s shoulder. Then, he turned to pick the forgotten soap behind himself, before turning back to Zayn, eyes weirdly soft (the sky after a storm, clear and light blue) despite the tight setting of his eyebrows. He squeezed a generous amount of it (smelt like the first layer of master’s scent, peppermint and lemons, deceptive on its freshness, hiding the metallic and the spice of his true scent) onto his now clean palm. Master rubbed Zayn’s tummy with this hand, lathering the dirty skin with soap, bubbles forming and filling Zayn’s nostrils with their fragrance; he did the same as master, slowly and steadily cleaning. First master’s stomach, them his chest and his shoulders, as Master Louis’ hands washed his back, kneading the tense muscles on his scapulae.

 

They bathed in silence, Zayn basking on every second of the moment, heart swelling with adoration, love (because yes, he loved this man with all his might; he was a pet, and pets loved quickly, easily and absolutely) making a small smile bloom on his lips and a purr constantly rumble on his chest. He wanted to kiss master, snuggle on the curve of his body and talk, but knew Master Louis wasn’t one for this. Something had happened to make the man this gentle, so approachable, and while Zayn’s curiosity was definitely spiked, he wouldn’t dare to bother master, perfectly content in savour every little gesture of affection, this small space filled with an intimacy Zayn missed having.

 

There wasn’t a better feeling than this, this closeness born out of pleasure and silent tenderness, so simple but so desired Zayn felt dazed, drowning in happiness, some of his insecurities tucked deeply inside himself, sated at the present time; He wouldn’t dwell on them, not when he had Master Louis’ strong hands running through all the expanse of his body, down his arms to his butt cheeks, caressing his tailbone, ticking his tail.

 

Master Louis didn’t say anything as they left the bathroom, towels precariously dangling from their waists; Master guided him to his room, where he stripped down nude (Zayn tried his best to burn the image on the back of his eyelids, from the slight tanned skin to the taut, defined muscles, his thick thighs and handsome features surrounded by wet hair, the stubble on his chin and cheeks) and signed for Zayn to copy the action, something he promptly did.

 

Master threw him a black jumper and a pair of boxers, and after getting dressed himself (with a tight maroon jumper and baggy trackies) hopped onto the big bed, hiding beneath the duvet.

 

“Wanna kip with me, pet?”

 

With a fluttering heart and an excited yelp, Zayn nodded and made his way to the bed, laying by master’s side; the man pushed Zayn’s back against his chest,  hands circling his waist and lips brushing the nape of his neck. His whole being relaxed into the embrace, feeling protected from the world if he remained on the arms of that cold man capable of such warmth.

 

Before closing his eyes, Zayn noticed the shelf full of books in front of him. He gulped and took his eyes away from them.

 

_Jane Eyre, Carrie, Hamlet, The Da Vinci Code, Lord of the Rings._

 

The itch to read them bothered him, so he forced himself to forget.

 

Master wouldn’t like a pet who could read.

 

Master didn’t need a _different_ pet.

 

Master wanted and needed a pet to please him.

 

Zayn would be this pet.

 

End of discussion.

 

 


	8. Tell Me (Have I Lost My Mind?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone~  
> I know this isn't a lot and I'm sorry for it, really am.  
> I'm very busy with college right now, and I just went through a surgery. Result: I'm behind on my classes and this is my last update for at least one or two months. I'm deeply sorry.  
> And thank you very, very much for all the amazing reviews, the bookmarks and the kudos! I never expected this to receive the amount of love it does, and it always amazes me how lovely you are. Thank you~  
> All mistakes are my own. Please feel free to tell me about them~

Louis woke with the feeling of fluffy hair inside his mouth. He made an attempt to move, frowning slightly when something – better, _someone_ – moved closer, more hair tickling his nose and entering his mouth. He shifted his head a little, getting rid of it, no further trying to get up; his own hands were wrapped around a lithe waist, and the warmth surrounding him was pleasant enough to make Louis pull the body closer, smooth legs intertwining with his.

 

Eleanor felt nice, but oddly sharper, her curves not fitting into his like normally, the soft to his angles, angles fitting into angles instead.

 

“El,” he whispered, rubbing little circles on her hips, kissing her sandal and rain smelling hair. Weird, as she usually smelled of something sweeter, a bit like strawberry and vanilla; his sleepy mind couldn’t remember her ever changing the way she smelt, not in the five years he’d known her, and yet, he found himself enjoying it greatly, this new one more suave and fresh. He inhaled deeper, tightening his grip on her. “Hey, El.”

 

She moved a little, almost all of her body against his, chest against chest; Louis actually yelped in surprise at the lack of boobs – and Eleanor had _fantastic_ tits – and his eyes shot open. Tucked on the crook of his neck, Zayn slept peacefully, long dark eyelashes brushing on the sharp cheekbones, the rest of his body hidden by the thick duvet and a black jumper Louis recognized as his own, cat ears twitching ever so slightly.

 

In a moment, the past day passed through his head, reminding him that Eleanor once again had left, and while the turmoil inside him had not subsided, the pet curled on his bed weirdly made things easier to swallow, the bitter pill of her departure simpler to take. His pretty pet looked peaceful, and the cosy warmth of the situation somehow soothed Louis, still light and dazed with somnolence. So, atypically of his common attitude, Louis buried his face onto the fluffy hair, feeling around for his phone half-heartedly, not exactly willing to get up; his two week long vacation was almost over and soon he would go back to his job as a CFO. The company needed him wanting or not, and he was tired of lying around without nothing to do, despite the emotional stress he went through the past days thanks to Eleanor and Zayn.

 

It was just past three, which meant he had slept for little under an hour, and the growling of his stomach made him remember that he hadn’t eaten anything since morning, and after Zayn’s admittedly fantastic blowjob plus the handjob in the shower (also bloody amazing, but he had acted out of character in there, treating the pet nicely, and now he would have to deal with gold eyes staring expectantly at him, fuck), his hunger was as justified as it was intense.

 

Still, he didn’t want to move; he was comfortable and pleasantly warm, the drowsiness surrounding him like a bubble, and the pet in his arms smelt nice and felt soft. Louis dropped the phone back on the dresser behind Zayn’s back, the movement making him lean slightly on top of the sleeping boy; looking down, he saw the relaxed face, brown and placid, breath even and long and in one thoughtless second, he inclined his head down so he could place a small, feathery kiss on Zayn’s forehead, his nose being tickled by the fluffy black hair. The pet continued to sleep, unaware of the world outside of his dreams despite the light twitch of his ears, and Louis kissed him again, this time on his cheek (felt a bit coarse because of the stubble, but nicely so, tingling his lips), before using one hand to remove some of Zayn’s hair out of his face, caressing it on the process, appreciating the radiating heat of his skin.

 

It was when Zayn purred (the sound deep, throaty and so bloody arousing) and tried to snuggle further onto his side that Louis snapped out of the unconscious trance he had put himself into; he took his hand off Zayn’s face as if it had burned him, falling back on his pillow with a groan.

 

For fucks sake, he was going mad. Absolutely bonkers. Zayn had, with the utmost certainty, sucked his brains out and now he had no control whatsoever of his body and what it chose to do, nor he had control over his traitorous thoughts. Tenderness wasn’t becoming of him.

 

“Zayn,” he called, attempting to awake the pet without having to shake him. “Zayn,” he tried again when the boy didn’t move a muscle, continuing to sleep deeply and comfortably snuggled against his body, his purring coming from his throat.

 

Sighing with exasperation (and not fondness, because he was Louis Tomlinson and he didn’t do this kind of emotion outside family and Eleanor, no matter how… dammit, how cute the pet looked on his chest, slow breathing brushing his collarbone and, fuck it, maybe he had a tiny bit of a soft spot for him), Louis admittedly pried himself apart carefully, deeming the other worthy enough to remain on the reign of dreams after what he did to… distract Louis. It was hard to get up initially, detangle his body from Zayn’s since both were so intertwined, Louis’ legs in between Zayn’s, his arms around the small waist while Zayn’s hands clutched the fabric of his jumper, head fitted on the junction between his neck and shoulder; he noticed quickly that no matter what movement he did, the body next to his stayed still, not bothered by anything.

 

So he threw the covers off him, yanking one arm from underneath Zayn (it tingled after so long) and watching as Zayn seemed to notice his absence, brows scrunching up together, feeling around the bed for his presence. He stopped when he came in contact with Louis’ pillow, grabbing it and hugging it like a child would do with a teddy bear, burying his face on the silky material, relaxing his previous tense countenance, pink lips curling softly into a lax grin.

 

(Louis definitely didn’t smile tenderly. Absolutely didn’t. Fucking not, okay? A twitch on one corner of his lips didn’t mean bloody anything and fuck everyone who said differently.)

 

Louis went to the kitchen, scratching his tummy lazily. There was nothing ready on the fridge and he would be damned before he made something for himself; 28 years under his belt and it wasn’t now he was going to start cooking. Nah, he had Harry and Eleanor for that, and just about every number for every restaurant and fast-food place in London.

 

He decided on Thai, and ordered something for Zayn too. Couldn’t have the pet starving, yeah?

 

Half an hour later, the doorbell ringed and Louis (who was nursing his second beer, to distract his stomach) picked his food, happy in letting the delicious and fresh smell enter his nostrils, setting apart his from Zayn’s, guarding the pet’s for when he woke up. He went back to his place on the couch and changed channels, deciding on BBC, not really paying much attention to what was on while he wolfed down his share.

 

Weirdly, he felt… kinda empty. Like there was a hole on his chest, achingly hollow, a blank space with nothing to be filled with. The sore spot of Eleanor’s departure was a little better after two orgasms, a kip and a hot meal (begrudgingly he admitted that he sounded like a teen tending to a heartbreak) and yet… it wasn’t enough. He wanted her _there with him,_ push her towards him, bury his face on her sweet smelling hair and occasionally snog her, laughing beside her giggly mouth. He wanted their easy banter and the companionable silence. Wanted her by his side and Zayn at his feet, nuzzling his leg and purring sweetly and…

 

Fucking fuck. He should stop. Never again use his time alone to think. Obviously, he had some problem:

 

Zayn being the name of it, damn him; as if he _cared_ about the pet as something more than this, a pet. Hell, for all that counted, he didn’t care for Zayn as a pet, yet… he wasn’t an object. No, Zayn had too many feelings, all over the bloody place and so painfully clear to see sometimes. From his eagerness to please to his almost irrational fear of confrontation, no one dared to treat him as a doll with no needs. Zayn made Louis feel greedy, not unlike a kid with a shiny new toy, protective, like an owner to a very young kitten and hunger, a craving for his body (his sweet moans, the heat of his brown skin, the golden of his eyes) like a lover would to another.

 

Zayn was driving him crazy (next time he sees Harry, a punch on that smug face would settle the score). Crazy.

 

And as always, you think of the devil, and he appears.

 

Zayn paddled by groggily, rubbing his eyes with a sweater-covered hand, ears flat on top of his head and tail swinging lazily behind him. “Good evening, Master Louis.”

 

“Pet,” Louis stated. “There’s food on the microwave for you; feel free to eat it all,” he said with finality, slightly peeved with the fact that now he thought of it, he had never seen Zayn eating next to him after that day they spent marking Zayn and buying him clothes. The pet was on the verge of being too thin (one could feel all the bloody ridges of his ribs) and by the way he acted, Zayn probably wouldn’t ever do anything without permission, including feed himself. Distantly, he still felt the shame of parading around with a freezing pet following closely behind, toes going blue and resigned silence.

 

Zayn nodded, smiling lightly, turning on his wheels to go to the kitchen, grabbing the greasy food carton and bending down (riding up the sweater, exhibiting a small and round and _delicious_ bum) to grab a fork and napkins. The boy walked to the living room, settling contently on Louis’ feet, careful not to touch him, but sufficiently close for Louis to feel the heat irradiating through his dark skin; he watched as his pet opened the carton, the shifting ears stilling at whatever he saw, tail going tall and rigid.

 

Great. What fucking now?

 

“The food is not up to your tastes, pet?” he mocked, crossing his arms. Zayn’s head whipped in his direction, golden eyes wide in open panic.

 

“N-No! Not at all Master! I just remembered that I’m not that hungry–” as if in cue, his stomach grumbled, and his already dark cheeks got darker, thick eyelashes dropping to help hide the sheepish look of his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

 

Louis held the urge to roll his eyes; based on how Zayn kept looking at him, the action was capable of making him cry, damn him and his absolute shit emotional state. “Listen pet…”

 

“I can’t eat pork, Master,” Zayn admitted in quickly with tense ears, spinning the fork on his…

 

Soy sauce pork with grilled pork sticky rice and green papaya salad.

 

For fucks sake. “Shit,” Louis cursed. “Fuck pet, I forgot.”

 

Putting hurriedly the uneaten container on the small table, Zayn knelled in between Louis’ legs, the imagery eerily similar to that one of earlier. Pink lips worried by sharp white teeth, a flushed face with defined cheekbones and inky lashes sweeping over clear golden orbs, black hair flopping down his forehead in unorganized waves. Pliant and wrecked, only for Louis to use over and over and _over again; a_ rousal stirred hotly on Louis’ lower region, possessiveness twisting at his gut, an ugly coil demanding to be heard, sounding a lot like **mine, only mine** _._ “It’s not your fault Master; I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t…. I– I can eat it if you wish so.”

 

Louis wasn’t about to ask why Zayn wouldn’t (couldn’t, whatever) eat pork, but no matter what reason, Zayn showed himself willing to eat it for him. The bloody pet was willing to eat the goddamn thing for him, despite the clear dread swimming right fucking there on the swirling gold of his eyes.

 

Fuck, Louis wanted to bend down the pet and just take him there, make him gag on his cock, put him on all fours, spread his cute little butt cheeks and lick his hole until he was sobbing against the couch; bury his cock so deep Zayn wouldn’t be able to do nothing but whimper and _accept it._

 

Reaching a hand to tilt Zayn’s head upwards, Louis tsked, swallowing dryly to contain his… cravings. “I’m not good, but I’m not cruel either. You can have mine.”

 

“Master–”

 

“Just give me the bloody food,” Louis sneered, patience starting to wear thin, the arousal curling on his guts making things harder to concentrate. Zayn gave it to him with trembling hands, in return receiving the mostly empty cardboard box with enthusiasm, immediately digging into the grilled chicken and needle mushroom salad with gusto, moaning around the first forkful with a high-pitched whine.

 

Way to kick a man while he’s down, the fucking pet.

 

Throwing his head back, Louis groaned, not even trying to adjust his pants. The fact that the pet was happily leaning on the couch, in the middle of his legs, tail wrapped around his calve didn’t help either.

 

Fucking great.

 

 

 


End file.
